


When Waters Rise Up (I keep my home floating upon your chest)

by coffeejunkii



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Protective Phil Coulson, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 106,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/pseuds/coffeejunkii
Summary: Phil has his senior year all planned out: get good grades, get into an amazing college, spend time with friends. Dating can wait until next year.Then Clint moves to town and turns Phil's world upside down.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Comments: 400
Kudos: 188





	1. First Day

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the story I've been writing over the last four months. Did I ever think I'd write a 70k high school AU? No. Is that what happened? Yes.
> 
> Many thanks to Ralkana and Rurounihime for reading this as it was written, and to Lady Tian and Iamwintermute for brainstorming the initial idea.
> 
> The "loss of a parent" tag refers to Clint's comics canon backstory, which I have moved up in time to his senior year.
> 
> The title is from "Gold Rush" by Mirah.

It’s the first day of senior year, and Phil pauses just inside the doors. It’s his last first day of high school, ever. The hallway stretches on ahead of him, still silent half an hour before the first bell. The floors gleam, the lockers are freshly polished, the notice boards empty. Newly arranged classrooms beckon with an entire year’s worth of knowledge. 

Phil has made peace with the fact that he loves school, loves learning, and will actually miss this place once he graduates in May. He heads toward his locker, eager to set it up. As he turns a corner, he notices the student halfway down the hall. It’s not anyone Phil knows, but looks to be about his age. A junior or senior year transfer? Interesting.

Phil clears his throat as he approaches the guy, whose head whips up from the paper in his hands. “Hi. Need some help?” 

New guy looks down at the paper again, then back up at Phil. “Uh, yeah. I’m trying to find my locker, but this map is confusing.” 

“It’s complete garbage, in fact.” Phil steps closer so he can read which locker new guy has been assigned. “Student Council has pushed for a new map for years. Follow me.” 

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m Phil, by the way.”

“Clint.”

“Nice to meet you.” Phil wonders if they have time for a small tour of the school. Just the basics, like the cafeteria and library and the classroom Clint needs to find for first period. “Here we are.”

“Cool, thanks.” Clint reads the combination off the paper and fiddles with the lock. He shoots a sideways glance at Phil. “Was there something else?”

“I thought I could show you around. If you want.” Phil tries not to sound too eager.

“Oh, um.” Clint shoves two ancient looking notebooks into his locker before closing it. “Okay.”

“Great!” Clint’s raised eyebrows tell Phil that this was too much enthusiasm for a tour around the school. Phil squares his shoulders and swallows down the beginning of an apology. ‘School is cool’ flashes through Phil’s mind in bright letters, the catchphrase from a sticker that his mom had put on his binder back in first grade. “Let’s start with the library.” 

As they walk, Phil steals glances at Clint. His purple backpack looks new, but his jeans and T-shirt have either seen better days or Clint is the kind of person who buys new clothes that look worn out. His shaggy blond hair is a mess but in an effortlessly cool way that Phil would never achieve. There’s definition to his upper arms and shoulders that’s clear through Clint’s flimsy T-shirt and makes Phil wonder if Clint is into sports. It also makes Phil want to look more than he should. 

Tearing his eyes away, Phil asks, “So, where did you move from?”

“Iowa. My mom got a new job down at the dairy plant.”

Phil nods. Must be a pretty good job if the entire family is relocating with Clint having only a year of school left. “That’s exciting.”

Clint shrugs. 

“And your dad?” As soon as the question is out of Phil’s mouth, he regrets it. He always hates it when people ask him, and he also shouldn’t assume that there’s a dad in the picture. Maybe Clint has two moms. 

“He’s kinda between things.” 

“Ah.” Depending on what Clint’s dad does, he may not have been able to find a new position in their small town before making the move. “My mom’s an accountant,” Phil offers. “And my dad died when I was two.” It’s best to get that out there right away.

Clint looks at him, clearly unsure about what to say.

“It’s okay. My mom’s amazing.” Phil has learned over the years that this is an effective way to shut down any awkward declarations of sympathy and further questions. 

“That’s nice,” Clint murmurs.

The double doors leading to the library come into view. “Okay, here we are,” Phil says. “Library’s open to everyone during normal school hours and into the afternoon. If you’re working on special projects, you can get special permission to stay longer.” 

As they enter, Phil waves at Mr. Becker, who is shelving new acquisitions. 

“Hi Phil. Trying to get some early studying in?”

“Nah, just showing Clint around. He’s new this year.”

“Hey, Clint. Let me know if you have any questions. If there are any questions left after Phil has explained everything.”

Clint shuffles his feet. “Okay.”

Phil directs Clint toward the back of the library. “I’ll show you my favorite study space.” 

“What’s the computer access like?”

“It’s good. Few restrictions, and we have a decent database package.” Two things for which the Student Council had lobbied under Phil’s leadership.

“And printing?”

“There’s a number of free pages and then a small fee. Sorry, I’m not sure about the exact numbers because I usually use the printer in my mom’s office at home.”

“I can find out, don’t worry.”

Phil rounds the long row of shelves with government documents and stops in the tucked-away corner of the library that might be Phil’s favorite spot in the entire school. There’s a skylight above a big group study table and two computers on an adjacent desk. “Most people don’t find their way here because no one ever needs anything from this section, so it’s always quiet.”

Clint looks around. “It’s nice. I used to go to the public library in Waverly a lot to study.”

Phil is pleased to note that Clint takes time to study and to go to a library. Maybe not a jock, then. “Libraries are awesome.”

A small smile brightens Clint’s face. “Yeah.”

Phil smiles back. 

The first bell shakes Phil out of the moment. “Ten minutes to first period. I’m afraid the cafeteria has to wait. What’s your first class?”

Clint digs the paper out of his pocket. “AP Lit. And thanks, I’m sure I can find the cafeteria and everything on my own.”

“That’s my first class, too. You’re in for a treat—Ms. Lassiter is an awesome teacher.”

** 

Phil waves down Clint just as Jasper and Maria get into an argument about whether or not the tater tots are up to last year’s standard. “Everyone, meet Clint,” Phil says as Clint sits down next to him. “Clint, this is Jasper and Maria.”

There’s a round of “hey” and “nice to meet you”s.

“I think we have math together,” Maria says. “Second period.”

Clint briefly looks up from his tray. “Uh, yeah.”

Phil adds, “Clint’s in AP English with me and we’re also in History together for last period. What else are you taking? Maybe you have some classes with Jasper.”

“Haven’t memorized my schedule yet,” Clint replies. 

“Give the man a break, Phil, geez,” Jasper says. “Phil’s a bit of an unofficial welcome committee, so you have to excuse him.”

That gets a small smile out Clint.

Phil knows he can be a little too eager at times when he’s trying to be helpful, but a first day at a new school has to be disorienting and weird, and who wouldn’t want some initial contacts when you don’t know anyone? “I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“So, where’d you move from?” Maria asks.

“Waverly. Iowa.”

“Ah, from one Midwestern hellhole to another.” Jasper states, and Maria clinks her water bottle against his in agreement. 

“Ignore them,” Phil says. “This is a nice town, and Madison is only a two-hour drive away.”

“Oh yes, Madison, the pinnacle of cultural refinement,” Jasper says. “At least you can get a Pad Thai there that mostly deserves the name.”

“Jasper runs a foodie Twitter,” Phil throws in. “Though it’s mostly reviews of the cafeteria menu.”

“It’s a valuable service for the entire school.” Jasper stabs another tot. “They absolutely changed brands on these.”

“I think you’re right,” Maria says. “And Jasper’s tweets are absolutely worth reading. They’ve saved me from food poisoning more than once.”

“Never ever try the Taco Tuesday menu,” Jasper states emphatically. Maria nods.

“Yeah, I have to agree with that, too,” Phil admits. 

“Got it, no tacos,” Clint says. “I’m not that picky. As long as it’s hot and covers most food groups, I’m good.”

Jasper looks scandalized, and Maria says, “You can always escape off-campus, too. Senior privilege.”

“Once a week,” Phil adds.

Clint nods. “Good to know.”

“So, have you thought about joining any clubs or activities?” Phil asks. 

Maria leans across the table and fake-whispers, “Before you answer that, keep in mind that Phil has been in charge of or part of most clubs in school.”

“I’m involved a normal amount.”

Jasper and Maria burst out laughing. Maria recovers first. “Okay, when Phil says a ‘normal amount’ about anything, always translate that into ‘entirely exceeds all expectations.’”

“Especially if he’s talking about studying for a test,” Jasper adds.

“You’re ones to talk, Ms. ‘Model UN state champion’ two years in a row, plus editor-in-chief of the newspaper, and Mr. ‘I ran the most successful food drive in school history’.”

“Still nothing compared to everything you do,” Maria points out, less teasing and more earnest. 

Clint turns to Phil. “So, what all do you do?”

Phil sets down his fork. “Well, Student Council—”

“Phil’s going to run for Student Council president. Again.” Jasper clarifies.

Phil ignores him. “I’m also part of the GSA—fine, co-leader of the GSA with Maria—and we really need to change that name to something more inclusive, and I’m doing debate—”

“Very successfully,” Maria adds.

“And I was asked to be on the prom committee, but I’m still weighing my options.”

“For everyone’s sake, please join, so we can be spared last year’s disaster,” Jasper pleads.

“As I said, I’m considering it.”

Maria says, “That means he’s doing it.”

Phil won’t deny that. 

“Wow,” Clint says. “That’s a lot.”

“Were you involved in anything back in Waverly?” Phil asks. 

Clint pushes his leftover mashed potatoes from side to side. “Not really. Mostly just tried to get through every year.”

“Totally fair choice,” Jasper declares. Maria nods her assent, and Phil has about a hundred more questions for Clint, who doesn’t seem that interested in school and yet made insightful and knowledgeable comments when he was called on during their Lit class.

The bell rings, denying Phil any additional chances at more questions.

“Godammit, never enough time to eat in peace,” Jasper grouses.

They all stand and gather their trays and backpacks. “But there is always time to put in a petition for an extended lunch period,” Phil points out.

“See you later, Coulson.” Jasper hurries through his tray disposal. The chemistry lab is at the other end of the school, and six minutes is barely enough time to get there.

“Are you still committed to that ra-ra senior year editorial?” Maria asks as they start walking.

“Already emailed you a draft,” Phil answers. 

“Much appreciated.” She turns left to head to the first school paper staff meeting.

Phil turns to Clint. “So, see you in History?”

“Yeah. Um, which way to Room 23?”

Phil smiles. “Right, and it’s the third door on the left.”

Clint returns the smile. “Got it.”

**

“Are you taking the bus home?” Phil asks Clint after History.

“Nah, I’m walking. Hate the bus.”

Phil shares that sentiment. “I’m riding my bike until the frost settles in and then I’m driving.” He can’t keep the pride out of that statement. It took him three long summers and saving most of his allowance and birthday money to buy the slightly beat-up truck, but he did it. “Which direction are you headed?”

“Millford Heights.”

Interesting. Most people in town associate that area with the trailer park, but there are some older homes in that neighborhood as well. It wouldn’t be anyone’s first choice, and Phil wonders what would have drawn Clint’s family to that area until he remembers the new subdivision that’s just beyond it. Phil didn’t realize the first houses were finished, but it would make sense. It’s just a quick drive to the highway from there, and ideally positioned to allow Clint’s mom to cut around the morning rush hour. “I’m headed in the same direction for about a mile if you want to walk together.”

“Aren’t you meeting up with your friends?” 

Phil opens the door for them, and a wave of late-summer heat hits him. “Maria’s got softball practice and Jasper picks up his brother from middle school.” He turns toward the bike rack. “We don’t have to walk together. I bet this was an exhausting day. New teachers, new classes, new rules…it’s a lot.”

Clint shrugs. “It’s fine.”

Phil unlocks his bike, and they wind their way through the throng of students milling in front of the school. They remain silent until they’ve turned onto a quiet residential street.

“Did you like your classes?” Phil asks.

“Sure. Lit seems like it’ll be good.”

“It will be.” The reading list turned out to be even better than Phil expected. “Ms. Lassiter always tries to push the boundaries of the curriculum, and she lets you do creative assignments.”

Clint perks up at that. “Like what?”

“Last year, Sarah roped half the class into a dance she choreographed based on Emily Dickinson’s poems.” Phil feels Clint’s eyes on him. “Anyway, things like that. Creative writing, too.”

“Cool.”

“We have a literary magazine if that’s something you’re interested in.”

“Maybe.”

They fall silent for another block. Phil doesn’t want to ask Clint a million questions or drown him in information, but it also feels awkward to not say anything. “So, do you have any siblings?” That seems like a safe question.

“Yeah. Older brother. Barney. He’s at the University of Iowa.”

“That’s a good school. Is he enjoying it?”

Clint snorts. “He’s partying a lot, so probably. I don’t hear from very often.”

“Ah.” Maybe they don’t get along that well, or Barney’s too busy with school. Even if that mostly extends to his social life. 

Phil is wracking his brain for another innocuous question when Clint gestures at his backpack and says, “I like your rainbow pin.”

“Thanks.” Phil waits, sensing that there might be a follow-up to that compliment.

“So, uhhh, since you got that pin and you’re part of the GSA, what—what’s it like for you at school?” There’s concern in Clint’s eyes.

“You mean, what is like to be out at school?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Most people probably think of themselves as tolerant. No one’s ever bullied me for being gay, which is better than elsewhere.” He pauses to see if Clint has a reaction to that, but he doesn’t. “But I can also pass for straight and I’m ‘normal’ enough.” Phil makes air quotes around that word because he hates it. “And there are a bunch of us who are out and no one cares, or seems to care. I’m not sure what would happen if I tried to take a guy to Homecoming or held hands with him in school.”

“So it’s all, we’re cool with you, but please not in my face.” Clint sounds bitter.

“Potentially. No one’s put that to the test.” Phil thinks about Maria and the girl in her D&D group, but that’s not his story to tell. “You’re welcome to come to the next GSA meeting. It’s low-key, and there are some straight kids, too. In case you fall more toward that end of the spectrum.”

Clint bursts out laughing. “Oh, definitely not.”

Phil’s heart thumps in his chest. He joins in the laughter, partly because he doesn’t know how else to react to that revelation, and partly because people make that assumption about him all the time and he finds it equally ridiculous.

Still smiling, Clint says, “Thanks for letting me know. It sure sounds better than back home.”

Phil files that information away for later, but that seems like a conversation for when they will hopefully know each other better. “Like I said, this is a decent town. It definitely has its issues, but it could be a lot worse.”

They are about a block away from where they need to split ways. Phil will need to circle back a little already, and Clint needs to turn left at the next intersection, which is the opposite direction in which Phil is going.

“I still have some of those rainbow pins left over if you want one?” Phil asks. “The GSA sold them for charity for Pride last June.”

Clint quickly looks at Phil and then fixes his eyes on the light ahead. “How much is it?”

“Oh, I meant, I’m happy to give you one. For free.” Phil clamps down on his eagerness again.

“If you’re sure,” Clint says slowly.

“Yes.” 

After a moment, Clint says. “I’d love one.” There’s a strain in his voice that Phil can’t place. 

“I’ll bring it tomorrow. I’m usually at school early, like you saw today. I could meet you at your locker ten minutes before the first bell?”

“Okay, sure.” Clint waves at the light, which has changed once already since they got to the intersection. “I’m going that way, but I guess you aren’t?”

“No. I live in Crestwood.”

The name clearly doesn’t mean anything to Clint. “Well, see you tomorrow, then.” The light changes, and as Clint starts walking, he calls out over his shoulder, “Thanks for today!”

“No problem!” Phil turns his bike around, and he can’t stop smiling the whole way home.


	2. Bullseye

“So, how was your first day?” 

Phil looks up at his mom. He’s grateful she waited until he was halfway through his first slice of pizza. “It was good. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but there’s a new guy who’s transferred into the senior class. Clint. His family moved here from Iowa.”

“Is he cute?”

Phil rolls his eyes. His mom is way too invested in his romantic prospects. Or rather, his complete lack thereof. “You could call him conventionally attractive.”

“Well, then. Maybe he has an interest in guys.” 

Phil manages to withhold what he knows for exactly two bites of pizza. “He has.”

A bright smile appears on his mom’s face. “That’s promising.”

“Just because we’re both into guys doesn’t mean…” Phil sighs. “I have other things to worry about. Like college applications.”

His mom’s smile softens. “You work really hard, and you should have some fun, too. It’s your senior year.”

This is familiar territory. Phil appreciates his mom’s concern, but he has a plan. And he has fun. It’s just that his definition of fun also includes things like running the Student Council. Dating can wait until college. “I’m fine.”

Fortunately, his mom lets that slide and tells Phil about her day.

**

Clint leans against his locker when Phil turns the corner the next morning. 

“Hi,” Phil says. “Happy second day of school.” He cannot keep the smile off his face. It’s a beautiful sunny morning, not too warm, and the first Student Council meeting is this afternoon. And then there’s Clint, who’s looking at him with amusement.

“Thanks? I never realized the second day was also noteworthy.”

Phil shrugs and holds out the promised pin. “Here you go.”

“Oh, hey, you remembered!” Clint takes it and bends down to fasten it to the center of his backpack.

“It looks nice against the purple,” Phil says.

“Purple makes everything better.” Clint settles the backpack on his shoulders. “Thanks again.”

“See you at lunch?” Phil tries to sound casual.

“Sure.”

**

“I’m thinking of asking Clint to study group and maybe also to movie night,” Phil says with one eye on Clint, who’s in line to pay for his lunch.

Jasper and Maria share a look. “Study group is fine,” Jasper starts. “But movie night is sacred,” Maria finishes.

Friday movie nights at Phil’s are a tradition by now. 

“I know, but he doesn’t know anyone. Let’s see how study group goes and then we can decide?” 

One thing that Phil likes about his friends is that they share his opinion on study group as character test. Anyone who makes a good study group participant for an entire afternoon cannot be an asshole.

“Sure,” Maria says, and Jasper adds, “Okay.”

“Great.”

The rest of lunch turns into a lesson in school hierarchy for Clint, eagerly shared by Jasper and Maria, and occasionally interrupted by Phil when his friends paint certain groups with too broad a stroke. Sure, there are social groups in school, but Phil likes to think that no one is at war with one another. 

“And everyone likes Phil,” Maria finishes.

“Truth,” Jasper confirms.

Phil shifts in his seat. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“It’s true,” Maria insists. “Because Phil always sees the best in everyone and is always polite.”

The comment makes Phil’s ears burn, and he can see Clint’s assessing, but not unkind, gaze out of the corner of his eye.

The bell spares Phil from further humiliation. On their way out, they invite Clint to their usual Wednesday afternoon study group, and after a moment’s hesitation, he agrees.

**

Clint passes the study group test with flying colors. He’s quiet and organized and agrees to take over snack run duties to the vending machine when they take a break. Jasper and Maria are impressed as well, and agree to a provisional movie night invitation. 

On Friday morning, Phil finds Clint at his locker. He feels a little jittery, which seems silly since he’s just asking Clint to come over to watch a movie, but also, it’s Movie Night, one of the constants in his friendship with Jasper and Maria.

“Hey,” Phil starts. Clint shoots him a quick smile as he gets his copy of _Ceremony_ from his locker. “So, every Friday, Jasper and Maria come over to my house to watch a movie. My mom’s always out with her friends, and it’s kind of a thing. Do you want to come?”

Clint rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks for the invite, but I gotta go to work tonight.”

“Oh. Okay. Where do you work?” Phil regrets the question as soon as it leaves his mouth. He’s already asked Clint so many questions this week and hopes Clint isn’t sick of them. Or of him.

“At the Culver’s down by the plant. I work the late shift most Fridays and Saturdays.”

Phil doesn’t know many high school kids who’d sacrifice their precious weekend nights for a fast food job. “If you have a Friday off, feel free to join us. It’s a standing invitation.”

“Thanks.” Clint scuffs his foot. “I hope Jasper and Maria don’t mind me hanging around. I appreciate you all being so nice, but…” He trails off.

“They don’t. Really.” 

Clint looks up at him. “Okay, but I get it if you want it to be just the three of you. I’m the interloper here.”

Phil isn’t sure what to do with that observation. Of course they don’t mind, but maybe Clint does? Was this too much? Maybe Phil needs to back off. “You really aren’t, but you can also tell me if I’m overstepping any boundaries. With you.”

Clint’s eyes dart away. “No need,” he says softly.

There’s something vulnerable in Clint’s voice and it’s confusing the hell out of Phil. He pushes it away. “Let’s go to class?”

Clint heads down the hall. “Did you get that third chapter?”

This is familiar territory, and Phil is glad to shift to examining fictional characters’ feelings.

**

“I spent the whole weekend—okay, not the entire weekend, but at least a few hours—trying to break down the consequences of the Monroe Doctrine, and then Mr. Harrison explains it in five minutes. How amazing is—” Phil realizes that Clint is no longer walking next to him. He looks over his shoulder and sees Clint ten feet down the hall looking at a flyer.

Phil walks over. It’s an ad for a new student club—archery—and Phil dimly remembers there being a few emails over the summer about this.

“Do you know Kate Bishop?” Clint asks.

Her name is listed as the contact on the flyer.

“Not personally. She’s a freshman this year, and her family’s well-known in town for all their charity work. They’re pretty well off. It’s possible that they’re sponsoring the club.” The note that all equipment would be provided strongly suggests that Phil, who knows that the school does not own any archery supplies. “Is this something you’re interested in?”

“I’ve done some archery before.” Clint sounds uncertain.

“You should check it out. I’m sure they’re happy about everyone who shows up.” 

“Maybe.” Clint takes a last look at the flyer and turns toward the exit.

Phil follows and swallows down another encouragement. It’s the first school activity that Clint has been interested in, and Phil thinks it would be good for him to meet some more people while doing something he obviously enjoys. But he also doesn’t want to meddle too much.

**

The next day, they’re heading out together again after History, but Clint hesitates to follow Phil to the bike rack.

“I, uhh, might check out that archery thing.” He stuffs his hands into his jeans.

Phil beams at him. “That’s great!”

Clint ducks his head. “We’ll see.”

“I’m sure you know how to get there, but the field is behind the east wing, so turn left, then right.”

“Got it.” He looks left and the back at Phil. “See you tomorrow?”

“Of course. Have fun!”

Clint doesn’t look like he’s expecting to have fun, but walks off to the left anyway.

Phil waits until Clint is out of sight, desperately hoping that he will have a good time.

**

On Wednesday, Clint is almost late to AP Lit, and Phil has to meet with the prom committee over lunch, so he doesn’t have a chance to talk to Clint until their study group. And even then he has to wait until they take a break because they all feel strongly about their self-imposed No Talking During Study Group rule.

Phil volunteers to accompany Clint on the snack run. He lasts exactly half-way to the vending machines before he asks, “So, how was the archery club?”

Clint’s face lights up. “It was good. Really good. There were just five of us, but we’ve all shot before, so we mostly tried out the different bows and targets.” He smiles. “They really went all out. I’ve never shot with such a nice bow before. It took me a few rounds to get all the settings right, but man, that bow. Fuck, Phil, I haven’t felt that good in a long time.”

Phil’s chest goes tight and he can’t get any words out. He hasn’t seen Clint this animated before, and it’s a sight to behold. Phil hands their collected stack of ones to Clint so he can feed the machine. 

“Kate said that we might get an actual coach, and we could maybe go to some tournaments if everyone sticks with the club. Seems like she’s been doing archery for a few years, but wants to get more serious about it, and convincing her dad to set up a club at school is her way of doing that. Guess they really have the money for it.” Clint shakes his head. “Rich people.”

“They certainly do have the money for it.” Phil gathers the snacks as they come tumbling out of the machine. “I’m glad you had such a good time.”

“Yeah, I did.” Clint’s expression turns serious. “Sometimes…sometimes, there’s a lot going on in my head.” He shoots a glance at Phil. “And this helps. Shooting a bow. It makes it all go away.”

“I go running sometimes. To get out of my head.” 

Clint holds his gaze, understanding in his eyes. 

Phil looks away first, worried this might get awkward. He starts back toward the library. “How did you get interested in archery?”

“Back in Waverly, this retired circus performer lived next to us, and he taught me.”

That’s not what Phil expected to hear.

“I know, it sounds weird, but it wasn’t. Guess I didn’t think much about it as a kid..”

“And now you get to pick up where you left off.”

Clint nods, joy evident on his face.

**

“So, Barton, I’ve heard a rumor about you,” Jasper says once they’ve sat down to lunch the next day.

Clint freezes, and Phil sets his fork down in case he needs to intervene. 

“Oh, relax, it’s about his AP Physics class.”

Clint remains tense next to Phil. 

“Rumor has it that you’ve aced every homework assignment and the first test. In a class taught by Dr. Bergstrom.”

“Holy shit,” Maria says.

Even Phil sits up a little straighter because Dr. Bergstrom’s classes are known as GPA bombs. Everyone tries to avoid them.

Clint’s eyes remain fixed on his food. “Uh, yeah? But…they weren’t that hard? I don’t know.”

Jasper, Maria, and Phil exchange looks. ‘Not hard?’ Jasper mouths.

“Dr. Bergstrom has a reputation for being really demanding,” Phil says gently. “So that’s probably why word is going around that you’re doing well.”

Clint looks at Phil. “How’d people even know?”

Maria gestures at the neighboring table filled with the cheerleading squad. “Because this school has a well-oiled gossip machine.”

“Just because they’re cheerleaders doesn’t mean they spread rumors,” Phil points out. Half of the prom committee is made up of cheerleaders and they’re genuinely nice. Most of the time.

Jasper and Maria’s expressions convey their utter disagreement.

“Anyway.” Jaspers bends down to rummage through his backpack. “In case any of you want to give some taste to that piece of cardboard passing for pizza, please help yourselves.” He sets a bottle of hot sauce and a ziplock bag of spices on the table.

“One day you’re going to get busted for these because someone thinks you’re smuggling weed into the school.” Maria takes the hot sauce and oregano.

“That’s why I’m friends with the Student Council president.” Jasper gestures at Clint’s tray. “Smart choice to skip both entrees. Should’ve done the same thing.”

Phil takes a closer look at Clint’s lunch and realizes that it consists of a banana, a yoghurt, and two of the little packs of milk they give out for free. It surprises Phil because the meatloaf really isn’t that bad, and Clint mentioned he wasn’t a picky eater.

“Guess I’m learning,” Clint says with a grin that looks hollow to Phil.

The conversation moves on to the usual mix of complaints about too much homework and their assorted nerdy interests, with Clint mostly listening.

After lunch, Phil tugs on Clint’s arm. “I just wanted to say…”

The wary expression is back on Clint’s face.

“About Physics. It’s a tough class, and to do so well right away, especially since you’re new, that’s impressive. Congrats.” Phil feels weird saying that, but it’s also important to him. Too few people really care about their homework, and Clint evidently does, and Phil doesn’t want him to stop caring because some idiots can’t keep their mouths shut.

Clint curls both hands around the straps of his backpack and fixes his gaze somewhere over Phil’s shoulder. “Thanks. I didn’t realize this was a big deal.”

“It is, though.” 

“’kay. I gotta go.”

As Clint walks away, Phil wonders if he just made a mistake.

This thought niggles at the back of Phil’s brain through his remaining classes, including History, where Clint seems like his usual self, and their walk home, where Clint again seems fine.

As they come to the intersection where they part ways, Clint stops and turns to Phil. “I didn’t mean to be rude or anything after lunch. It’s just that—that people don’t usually say that kind of stuff to me.”

Phil is relieved that Clint isn’t mad at him, but also confused. “That kind of stuff?”

“Like, ‘good job’ or whatever.” Clint’s eyes dart all over the place.

Phil is proud of himself for not immediately launching another question at Clint, like, ‘But surely your parents tell you?’ and instead taking a minute to think. He settles on, “Then I’m glad I said it.”

“Me too.” Clint says softly.

**

“So, tonight’s movie is _Close Encounters_ ,” Phil tells Clint as they’re settling into AP Lit on Friday morning. “We’re doing a classic sci-fi theme for movie night this fall.”

“I have work again tonight.”

“Is your schedule non-negotiable?” Phil remembers his one fast food job and the ever-changing shifts he was assigned.

“No, but Friday night’s an easy shift to get because, y’know, Friday night.” Clint shrugs. “So I take it if they offer it to me.”

That makes sense. “Well, if you ever get a Friday night off, the invitation stands.”

Clint nods and opens _Ceremony_ to review the chapter they had to read for today.

**

The first half of the following week is a blur with an increase in substantial homework and quizzes. Phil also has two appointments with guidance counselors to finalize his college application strategy. 

Despite the many things occupying his mind, Phil notices that Clint’s lunch tray is mostly empty every other day, and how tired he seems by the end of those days. Phil always has an emergency stash of granola bars in his backpack for a late-day energy boost, so when Clint starts yawning before History on Thursday, Phil takes out two bars and holds out one to Clint. “How about some brain food?”

Clint hesitates for a moment, but takes it. “Thanks.”

Phil isn’t hungry, but eats half of his bar anyway. Clint is done with his in four bites. 

**

That evening, Phil searches through the kitchen cabinets for more snacks.

“What are you looking for?” His mom asks as she moves leftovers from dinner into the fridge.

“I thought we still had a box of granola bars and those weird fruit roll-ups.”

“Don’t you hate those?” She opens a cabinet Phil already searched, but evidently not thoroughly enough. “Hmm, just one left of the peanut butter bars. But plenty of roll-ups.”

“I’ll take all of them.” 

“Are they not feeding you enough at school?” It’s a lighthearted tease, but her expression changes when Phil doesn’t return the banter. “Honey?”

Phil wants to ask her opinion, but Clint is so protective of his private life, and Phil wants to respect that. On the other hand, Phil’s mostly honest with his mom and she always has good advice. “They do. I just noticed that someone’s been skipping lunch a lot and I wanted to have some snacks on hand.”

“That’s nice of you,” she replies, clearly aware that there’s more to this story.

“Do you think that their parents forgot to add more money to their lunch account?”

“Sure, that’s possible. Or maybe that’s all they can afford.”

That seems unlikely. Phil knows about food insecurity—it was the major theme of Jasper’s last charity drive—but based on everything Clint has told him, he can’t really imagine it. Of course there’s a lot Clint hasn’t talked about, or only talks about in most general terms, so it’s possible. 

“Wouldn’t they apply for the free lunch program?” Phil asks.

His mom gives him a kind look. “There are all sorts of reasons for why their family hasn’t done that.”

Phil nods. He knows for sure that he can’t ask Clint about this outright. They don’t know each other well enough for that. Yet. “Could you add more granola bars to the grocery list?” The least Phil can do is replenish his supply.

“Of course. I’ll get a variety.”

“Thanks.” Phil is grateful that he can always count on his mom.

**

On Friday morning, Phil shows up extra-early to school. Their first big lit paper is due today, and he wants to read it over one last time before printing it. It’s a bit of a tradition for Phil by now, and he’s managed to spot a number of typos and horrific sentence constructions that way. 

He arrives at the table in the back of the library, pulls out his laptop, and notices Clint fast asleep at one of the computers. Phil walks over, and as he bends down to shake Clint’s shoulder, he accidentally nudges the mouse, waking up the screen. It looks like Clint has also been working on their _Ceremony_ paper. 

Curious, Phil starts reading the first paragraph. It has a clear voice, and the writing is beautiful. It doesn’t follow the standard outline of a first paragraph, but Phil would prefer to read this essay anytime over his own, which suddenly seems dull and mechanical. Phil knows that his essay is good—it has a clear structure and a thesis that is supported by plenty of evidence—but Clint’s paper is actually interesting. It doesn’t surprise Phil at all. 

“Hey,” Phil says softly and squeezes Clint’s shoulder.

Clint startles, tension running through his entire body until he’s taken a look around. He slumps in his chair. “Ugh.”

“Good morning,” Phil says.

Clint groans. “Fuck. What time is it?”

“Seven. You have an hour.”

Clint scrubs both hands over his face. “Oh thank god. I was almost done, I think.” He starts scrolling through his document.

“Do you want some coffee?” 

“You have coffee?” 

Phil gets the thermos from his backpack. “If I have to show up at school before seven, you bet I have coffee.”

Clint eagerly accepts the little cup Phil hands to him. “God, you’re a lifesaver.”

Warmth tingles through Phil’s entire body. “You’re welcome.”

They work quietly for the next forty-five minutes, print their papers, and make their way to class with five minutes to spare. It’s an excellent start to a good day, even if Clint declines the invitation to movie night again.


	3. Study Date

Monday starts with pouring rain—a reminder that fall is about to settle in. Even though the rain stops just when Phil would leave the house, he decides to take the truck to school. He prefers riding his bike, but the forecast predicts rain for the remainder of the day. Indeed, the rain picks up again when Phil pulls into the school lot. In the rearview mirror, he notices Clint sprinting past.

Phil swings by Clint’s locker, as has become a habit before AP Lit.

Clint is stuffing his soaked hoodie into the locker while cursing up a storm. When he notices Phil, he says, “Someone’s looking nice and dry.”

“I drove.” If Phil had Clint’s number, he would have texted him and suggested he could give him a ride from the intersection to school. But Phil hasn’t had a reason to ask Clint for his number. “Did you not take the bus?”

Clint rakes a hand through his wet hair. “Wasn’t sure what the schedule was. Besides, it wasn’t raining when I left. Ugh, today’s gonna suck.”

“You could stop by the nurse’s office. They often have spare clothes. Sweats with the school logo and so on.”

“Eh, I’ll be dry in an hour.” He gathers his books. “Did you like the beginning of _Wuthering Heights_? I’m not really sold on it yet.”

They fall into a familiar conversation as they walk to class. As Clint predicted, his clothes are mostly dry by the end of first period.

After their history class, it’s coming down in sheets. Clint looks out the windows with a determined expression on his face, like the rain isn’t a match for him.

Phil imagines how miserable it would be to walk through that kind of weather for forty minutes. Without thinking about it twice, he asks, “Can I give you a ride?”

With forced cheer, Clint replies, “I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to go out of your way.”

After almost a month of knowing Clint, Phil expected that answer. He also knows that insisting it wouldn’t be a problem isn’t the right strategy to get Clint to accept the offer. “How about a ride to the intersection?” That only gets Clint halfway home at best, but it’s better than nothing.

“Yeah, okay.” 

They stop by Clint’s locker to get his hoodie. His face falls when he notices that it has dripped over two textbooks and a notebook. “Guess I’m taking all of them home to dry out.”

“If you put something heavy on top of them, the pages will stay mostly flat.”

“Except I need my Physics book to finish today’s homework.” Clint sighs. “Honestly, what else could go wrong,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Phil. 

Phil wants to ask what else is wrong, but he doesn’t. They rush to the truck and make it inside with minimal rain exposure. Phil’s attention stays on the stupid amount of traffic around the school, and he grumbles about both the parents and the students who can’t drive in the rain. 

It’s a relief to turn onto a quiet street. Clint keeps looking out the window, and Phil can’t think of anything to say, so he turns on some music.

“Hey, I like that song,” Clint says.

That unexpected moment of connection fills Phil with a fuzzy sort of happiness. “One of my favorites.”

The steady rain and more songs form a comforting backdrop to their ride, with neither of them feeling the need to talk. Phil pulls in next to the curb half a block from the intersection. The rain hasn’t let up one bit. “Are you sure I can’t drive you home?”

“Yeah.” It sounds more like a sigh than an affirmation.

“It’s miserable out there.”

Clint looks at Phil and then out the window. ‘I know,” he says quietly. He makes no move to get out of the car.

That’s fine with Phil. He’s happy to wait even though it’s unlikely that the rain will stop anytime soon.

“It’s not even the rain, really,” Clint starts, hugging his backpack. “I mean, yes, it sucks to walk through it, but, whatever. I’ve done that plenty of times.”

It’s taking all of Phil’s willpower not to say anything lest Clint decides not to share whatever is on his mind.

Voice barely above a whisper, Clint says, “I just don’t really want to go home yet.”

Phil doesn’t know what to make of that. Clint hasn’t said much about his family, but Phil took that as a sign that there wasn’t much to say—just the sort of average family life that’s not very interesting to talk about. But maybe it’s the opposite, and there is too much to say, and none of it is easy to talk about. 

Phil stops that train of thought. It’s too easy to fall into speculations without a solid foundation, and if there’s something wrong at home, Phil hopes that Clint will share it eventually. The best Phil can do at the moment is showing Clint he has to a friend he can rely on.

“You can come over to my place,” Phil suggests, trying to sound casual. “My mom won’t be home for a few hours, but I know she wouldn’t mind.”

Clint shifts the backpack in his arms. “If you’re sure.” 

“Absolutely.”

Clint studies him, and Phil looks back steadily. “Okay.”

A wave of relief crashes over Phil. “We can get started on homework. And try to rescue your books.”

**

As Phil unlocks the front door, he tells himself that Clint isn’t going to care about how everything in Phil’s house is at least ten years out of date. The house is cozy and lived-in, but definitely not up to any current home design standards. 

They step into the small entryway that opens up into the living room. “Here we are.” Phil inwardly cringes at the mismatched furniture and overly colorful throw pillows. “My mom’s pretty strict about taking shoes off , so…” Phil leads by example, and Clint follows suit. 

As they walk down the hallway toward the kitchen and adjacent dining room, Phil wistfully thinks of the beautiful open concept house that Jasper lives in, and how dingy and cramped this house looks in comparison. The oak cabinets in the kitchen are definitely not the height of style, either. 

Clint looks around at the photos on the walls and the knick-knacks on various surfaces. “This is really nice.” He sounds sincere.

“Thanks,” Phil mumbles. “Um, you can put your stuff wherever. You probably want to hang up your hoodie. Or I could throw it in the dryer?”

“Nah, this is fine.” He hangs it over the back of a chair and takes out his books, spreading them out in a line. 

Phil brings over a few of his mom’s cookbooks. “Here, let’s put these on top.”

They shuffle things back and forth until all books are in neat stacks.

Clint sits down at the dining table and pulls out his history notes. “Do you want to go over these for the quiz on Wednesday?”

“Sure.”

They put together a study guide for about half an hour, after which Phil’s mind drifts toward the cookies his mom made yesterday. He also thinks of Clint’s half-empty lunch tray. “Do you want a snack?”

Clint looks torn. 

“I’m having a snack,” Phil announces. Instead of heading straight for the cookies, he opens the fridge and peruses the content as if he can’t quite make up his mind.

Clint walks up next to him and looks over his shoulder. 

Phil hopes that Clint will pick some of the real food in there. “You can have whatever.” He tries to play it cool.

“Is that lasagna?”

“It is. We made it last night. Do you want some?” 

Clint’s stomach rumbles.

“I’d say that’s a yes.” Phil reaches for the dish.

“Are you sure that it’s okay? Like, your mom wasn’t planning for you to have the leftovers for dinner or something? I can have something else. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

Phil sets the casserole dish on the counter and reaches for a plate. He could just shrug off those comments, or ignore them. Or, even worse, give in to them. But that doesn’t feel right. Without looking at Clint, he says, “You must be hungry. I saw what you had for lunch.”

Clint doesn’t say anything as Phil slides a piece of lasagna onto the plate and puts it into the microwave. They lean against the counter next to each other as the timer ticks down.

“You noticed that, huh,” Clint says.

“I did.” There is so much more Phil wants to say, like, _I know you’re hungry half the time and it’s killing me_ or _Please at least ask me for a granola bar or two on days like today_ or _Why don’t your parents make sure you get enough to eat at school?_

The microwave dings.

“I can get it,” Clint says. 

Phil hands him a fork, and grabs the cookies. They sit back down at the dining table.

“This is really good,” Clint mumbles after a few bites.

Phil smiles. “A Coulson family recipe. Which probably came from the back of a pasta sauce jar thirty years ago, but it’s still great.”

Phil turns to his Calculus homework, but he can only focus on how much Clint enjoys his food, and how quickly he eats it. 

Clint insists on doing the dishes—not just the one he used, but also the ones left over from breakfast—and settles back into homework. When Phil nudges the cookies closer to him, he takes one, and then eats another three, which makes Phil smile stupidly down at this problem set. 

Phil loses track of time as he works his way through the numbers in front of him until Clint jerks next to him.

“Sorry, I keep nodding off.” Clint yawns and rubs his eyes. “Food coma.”

He does look rather tired, and Phil can sympathize. Now that he’s not concentrating on Calculus, he feels the late-afternoon weariness creep in. “Time for a nap? Our couch is really comfortable.”

“Ugh, don’t tempt me,” Clint says. He picks up a highlighter and flips a page in _Wuthering Heights_.

Five minutes and three yawns later, Clint closes the book and caps the pen. “Okay, I admit defeat. I have no idea what I read. Wake me up in twenty?”

“Sure.” Phil sets the timer on his phone as Clint shuffles to the living room.

When the alarm goes off, Phil has made exactly zero progress on the damn Calculus problem set. He stretches his arms over his head on the way to wake Clint, and then stops when he sees Clint sprawled on his back, loose-limbed and deeply asleep. 

Phil doesn’t have the heart to wake him. He pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and carefully spreads it over Clint. 

Phil takes one last look and walks back to the dining room table, fully aware of the feelings twisting through him. There’s concern and protectiveness, neither of which Phil feels entitled to considering that he’s at most a casual friend to Clint, but which are roaring inside of him nevertheless. Then there are the imprints of moments when Phil caught himself looking at Clint’s hands, or the slope of his shoulder, or the way his smile can light up his face.

 _No no no_.

Phil closes his eyes, counts backwards from ten, and decides to re-read a chapter in his math textbook because he is determined to finish that problem set.

Once he finally figures out where he stumbled, he gets so engrossed that he doesn’t look up until his mom’s keys jingle in the door. 

Fuck. 

“Phil?” His mom’s voice floats down the hallway. “Who is—oh, it’s okay, I’m Phil’s mom, please, sit down…”

Phil is out of his chair in an instant. 

In the living room, Clint stands next to the couch, blanket clutched in his hands, looking shaky, and Phil’s mom has only taken a step into the room, clearly confused at the strange kid in her house, but also trying to look welcoming.

“Hey, mom, this is Clint,” Phil says to her in passing as he walks over to Clint. He puts himself into Clint’s line of sight. “It’s just my mom,” he says softly. He slowly reaches for Clint’s shoulders, and when that seems fine, steers Clint back to the couch.  
Clint sits and leans forward, head in his hands. Phil keeps a hand on his back, feeling tremors under his palm.

His mom takes a step closer. “Hi, Clint. I didn’t mean to—”

Phil shakes his head at her. 

His mom nods. “Call me if you need me?”

“I will.” Phil watches her walk upstairs, probably to change out of her work clothes. He runs his hand up and down Clint’s back before letting it fall away. “You okay?”

Clint straightens. “Yeah. I—I have this thing about being woken up suddenly. It’s stupid, but it rattles me, and—” He takes a deep breath. 

“It’s not stupid, and I’m sorry that I didn’t wake you earlier. You looked like you needed the sleep.” Phil wants to kick himself for how easily they could have avoided this. It’s definitely not how Phil wanted Clint to meet his mom.

“Fuck, what time is it?” Clint pulls out his phone. It says 5:17pm. “Shit. I have to—goddammit, I have to be at work in forty-five minutes.”

“You’re working tonight?”

Clint’s shoulders slump. “I traded shifts with someone so I could come to movie night on Friday.” 

“You’re coming to movie night?”

“If that invitation still stands…” Clint gives him a hopeful look.

‘Of course. You’re always invited, like I said.” Phil feels elated and guilty. He was worried that his continued invitations were annoying Clint, but knowing that Clint went out of his way so he could show up on Friday would make Phil happy, except that it’s also now his fault that Clint is worried about work. 

“Phil could drive you if that makes things easier.” 

Phil turns to look at his mom, who is in jeans and sweatshirt now and hovering next to the stairs. 

Clint remains silent.

“I’d be happy to,” Phil says, aware that Clint wouldn’t make it to work on time if he took the bus. Nevermind walking. 

Clint must have come to the same conclusion. “Okay.”

“Where do you work, Clint?” 

Clint stands. “At the Culver’s down by the dairy plant.”

“I just came from that direction. Traffic isn’t bad, so you should make it in twenty minutes.” Phil’s mom takes a few steps closer. “I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. It’s nice to meet you. Phil has been talking about you. Only good things, I promise.”

Clint shoots Phil an _Oh, really?_ look and Phil rolls his eyes. “I talk about all my friends.” It comes out with a hint of defensiveness because Phil is well aware that he talks more about Clint than Jasper or Maria. But in all fairness, his mom has known his other friends and their families for years and there isn’t that much new information to share. Information that is safe for his mom to know, at least.

“It’s good to meet you, too, Mrs. Coulson.”

“Oh, please, it’s Julie.” 

“We should probably get going,” Phil points out.

Clint takes another look at his phone. “Yeah, I don’t wanna be late.”

Clint’s books are far from dry, so he only takes his soggy Physics book, and Phil promises to bring the rest to school the next day. At least Clint’s hoodie has dried completely. Clint pulls it on, quickly packs up his stuff, and follows Phil out to the truck.

“Drive safely!” Phil’s mom calls out.

“Always,” Phil replies and pulls the front door shut behind him.

They don’t talk for the first part of the drive. Phil imagines they’re in the same boat: tired, too many feelings, unsure what to say. He puts some music on and keeps his attention on the road.

Eventually, Clint says, “Can you tell your mom that she shouldn’t feel bad about waking me up? She seems really nice.” 

“She is. And I’ll let her know.” 

“Thanks.”

“So, on Friday, the plan is to watch _Alien_. Maria’s never seen it. Have you?”

“I have. Barney showed it to me when I was like ten?” Clint shakes his head. ‘Definitely too young.” 

“We can also watch something else.”

“No, I’m curious what I make of it now. I saw _Aliens_ a couple of years ago and liked it a lot.”

Phil glances at him. “Okay, potentially unpopular opinion, but I like _Aliens_ better than the first one.”

Clint smiles. “Oh, a provocative opinion, I like it.”

They fall into a discussion about originals and sequels, and it feels good to talk about something where the stakes are considerable lower than whatever is going on with Clint’s home life.

They make it to Culver’s with ten minutes to spare. Clint hops out of the truck and waves good-bye at Phil.

Phil watches him walk inside, a pang in his chest.


	4. Movie Night

When Phil gets home, his mom is setting the table for dinner. “Let me do that,” Phil offers. He fills glasses with water while his mom starts on a salad. “Clint wanted me to tell you that you shouldn’t feel bad about waking him up.”

“He looked scared. Do you think he’ll be okay at work?”

“I think so. We talked a little on the way. Not about that, just…normal stuff.” Phil gathers silverware and napkins and carries them to the dining table. When he comes back, his mom pulls the lasagna out of the fridge.

“I remember there being more left over.”

Phil takes over salad duties. “Clint had some.”

“Well, that’s alright. This is certainly enough for both of us.”

She cuts and plates the lasagna while Phil finishes the salad. As the first plate heats up in the microwave, she asks, “Is Clint the reason why we now have an abundance of granola bars?”

Phil nods. “It’s also why I offered the lasagna.”

His mom gives him an approving look, and retrieves the first plate from the microwave. “Here, go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

Phil takes the plate, picks up the salad, and sits down at the table. He starts in on his food because he and his mom aren’t big on formality when they eat together. 

She sits down a minute later. “How is Clint settling in otherwise?” 

“He’s doing great in school. He’s acing his AP Physics class, which is blowing everyone’s minds.” Phil can’t hold back a smile. “Lit and History are going well, too, and probably his other classes, too. He joined the archery club that Kate Bishop set up.”

“I hear a but coming on.”

His mom knows him well. “Yes. School’s great, but I’m not sure about the rest. He’s said some things and then there’s lunch and—and—“ Phil isn’t sure how to finish that thought. It feels so presumptive to think that Clint may need help when there is so much Phil doesn’t know. “I’m worried about him.”

“I’m sure he can sense that.” She gives Phil a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard to look on and want to do something, but not knowing what the right thing to do is. I bet that everything you’ve already done means a lot to Clint, and he may reach out to you because of that.”

Phil certainly hopes so. “I wish there was something more I could do.”

His mom smiles at him. “You’re being a good friend. That goes a long way.”

It’s not the most satisfying advice, but Phil also knows that she’s right.

**

The next morning, Phil realizes that there is something else he can do: research. He makes sure to catch Jasper alone before their Government class. 

“Do you still have the data you compiled for your Food for All drive last year?” 

“I do. I can email it to you.” Jasper takes out his laptop. “Wait. Is there some extra-credit project I’m unaware of?”

“No. It’s just something I’m curious about.”

Fortunately, Jasper is used to Phil going down random rabbit holes, so he sends the spreadsheet without further questions.

By the time study group rolls around on Wednesday, Phil is knee-deep in Wisconsin statistics about food insecurity, average rental prices in town, average salaries at the dairy plant, the school’s free lunch program, and assorted other information.

When Clint goes on the snack run, Jasper leans over to look at Phil’s screen. “I swear, Coulson, if you’re withholding some secret project from me for Government—”

“I’m really not. I’m looking into this for…reasons.” That was the worst possible answer, and Maria’s look of _nice hole you dug for yourself there_ only confirms it.

Jasper tilts his head. “Ohhh, wait, I get it. It’s that debate thing where you have to prep a specific topic and it’s all secret and shit.”

Phil forces a bland expression on his face.

“Yup, your secret’s safe with me.” Satisfied, Jasper goes back to his homework. Maria’s raised eyebrows say that she isn’t buying it. 

Phil ignores both of them.

**

By Friday morning, Phil knows a whole lot more about the lives of low-income families in Wisconsin, but he still has no idea if that applies to Clint, or how it might apply, or what Phil can do about it. All he knows is that there is a twisting mess of feelings inside him where Clint is concerned. 

Phil pushes those thoughts away, and focuses on what’s right in front of him: getting through the day, with movie night as a reward and start to the weekend.

**

The doorbell rings promptly at 6pm.

“Hope I’m not too—“ Clint begins, and then stops as if he forgot what he wanted to say. He stares at Phil.

“What?” Phil looks down at himself. “Did I spill something?”

“You’re wearing glasses. And…” Clint gestures at him. “Sweatpants.”

“Uh, yes? Contacts make my eyes itch after a whole day, and it’s the weekend, so…” He’s confused. 

Clint slowly brings his eyes back up to Phil’s face. “You don’t usually look like that.”

Phil shifts from one foot to the other, suddenly self-conscious. Maybe the long-sleeved shirt is a little tight, but it’s his absolute favorite, and the sweatpants are frayed at the cuffs, but does he really look that terrible?

“Sorry, I just meant—you’re usually so put together with a shirt and sweater and nice shoes. I didn’t expect….can we go inside? It’s kinda cold out here.”

Phil steps aside. “Sure.” That was a little awkward. 

Clint toes off his shoes, and when he sees Phil’s mom on the couch, he says, “Hi Mrs.—Julie.”

“Hi!” She’s trying to hide her amusement behind her wine glass, a sure sign that she’s heard every word of that weird conversation on the stoop. “I’ll be out of your hair in a moment. My friend is running late.”

“Girls night out,” Phil fills in. “Let’s go to my room.” He’s glad that his mom doesn’t say anything embarrassing like ‘make sure to leave the door open’ as he and Clint walk up the stairs.

“I’m right in there,” Phil points to the room straight ahead. “Bathroom’s on the left next to me. Then my mom’s bedroom.” As he walks into his room, he gestures at the other door next to his. “That’s my mom’s office. She works from home on Tuesdays.” It’s something she has done for as long as Phil can remember. It allowed for afternoon adventures at the park or the zoo, especially when he was younger.

Clint takes a long look around Phil’s room, which makes Phil glad that he spent some time straightening up. 

“Your bed is really cool.” Clint walks over to the alcove and looks at the drawn-back curtains. “Gryffindor colors?” He smiles.

“I went through an intense Harry Potter phase. I was really disappointed when there was no Hogwarts letter for me on my eleventh birthday, so my mom hired someone to turn the corner of the room into this.” Phil still loves the nook with his bed and built-in shelves and the heavy curtains. 

“That’s so nice.” He sounds wistful.

“Probably the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Clint looks over the desk and out the window. “Hey, you have a yard.”

“A very overgrown one, yes.” Every year Phil and his mom feel determined to tackle that mess, but then summer rolls around and they’re happy to leave it be.

Phil gets a little nervous when Clint peers at his bookshelves because they reveal the true depths of his nerdery. Mixed in with books from school are numerous sci-fi and fantasy novels and nearly every Captain America comic ever published, plus assorted action figures. 

“Oh wow,” Clint says when he notices the comics. “I used to read these as a kid. I spent hours in the library going through them.” He runs his fingers over the spines of various trades. “Can I?”

“Go ahead.” Phil can’t believe that Clint actually knows the Cap comics. Even Jasper and Maria, who are also proud nerds, only tolerate that much talk about Steve Rogers.

Clint sits on the floor and pulls a volume into his lap. “This one’s my favorite.”

It’s the one in which Bucky falls off the train. “Yeah, that’s a good one.” Phil sits down next to Clint and watches him flip through the comic. 

“I found it so sad, but I also loved how Steve picks himself up again and keeps on going.”

Phil doesn’t really know how to react because he’s still stuck on Clint being legitimately familiar with his favorite comics. “I always thought that Steve and Bucky were together.” Apparently, his brain has gone offline because he usually doesn’t come right out with his ‘secret boyfriends’ theory.

Clint looks at him. “Huh. Yeah. That makes a lot of sense.”

“Right?” Phil manages not to go into how you can find considerable evidence in various biographies if you read between the lines.

“That makes Bucky’s death even sadder.”

“I know.” There’s more to share, and Phil hesitates for a moment, but then decides that Clint might be able to relate, or at least understand. “I spent a lot of time thinking about Steve and Bucky and what they meant to each other…that’s how I figured it out. That I’m gay, I mean.”

“Really?” It’s a genuine question, not a mocking one.

“Yeah. I was so much more interested in thinking about them together than about Steve and Peggy.”

Clint laughs. “They were both pretty hot, so I can see where you’re coming from.” 

That wasn’t really the primary motivation for Phil to think about them—although Phil has certainly thought about them together _like that_.

“What about you?” Phil asks.

“What about me?”

“How did you know that—“ Phil pauses because he doesn’t know how Clint identifies. “That you’re not straight?”

“Oh! I kissed a guy. And then made out with another, and by the third time, I figured that this isn’t just youthful experimentation or whatever. Like, this is actually something I want, you know?” Clint looks at Phil, open and honest. 

Phil nods even though he has not made out with three different guys. Hearing Clint talk about _want_ does things to him, like realizing he definitely wants to kiss Clint. And if Clint has made out with a bunch of guys, what else has he done? There’s a flood of images, and Phil becomes aware of their knees bumping and that they’re sitting close together and—

“Are you okay?” Clint looks at him with concern.

Phil’s cheeks burn. “Yes! Fine.” His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he’s grateful for the distraction. Trying to regain his composure, he takes longer than necessary to read Jasper’s text. “It’s an update from Jasper and Maria. They’re stuck at the pizza place because there’s a line out the door, but they should be here in fifteen.”

“I didn’t realize you were getting pizza. I would’ve brought some money.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Clint tenses. “I don’t wanna owe you anything. And I already ate your lasagna the other day.”

Promptly, all the feelings from earlier claw their way back into Phil’s chest. He’s usually an even-keeled person, and this mix of desire and worry throws him off. He takes a moment to watch Clint page through the comic. 

Phil slowly places his hand on Clint’s forearm in case the touch is unwelcome. Clint looks down at Phil’s hand, but doesn’t pull away. “You don’t owe me anything, okay?” 

Clint opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything.

“I don’t know what’s going on with—with your family, and you don’t need to tell me.” Phil slides his fingers down to Clint’s wrist. “But if you ever want to tell me, I’ll listen.”

Clint shakes Phil’s hand loose, and Phil is about to pull it back when Clint’s fingers close around his. They sit likes that for a long minute, hands clasped tightly, before Clint says, “Okay. Can’t make any promises, though.”

“You don’t have to.”

They fall silent again, and Clint holds on to Phil’s hand until Phil’s phone vibrates again with another text informing him that pizza has been obtained and they’re five minutes out.

Clint slowly—reluctantly, perhaps—lets go of Phil’s hand. “Time for pizza?” 

Phil nods. “Want to help with plates and stuff?”

“Plates?” Clint tilts his head. “For pizza?” 

“It gets messy!” 

Clint looks at him with much fondness. “We may need to talk about your pizza-eating technique, but plates it is.”

**

Jasper and Maria arrive, and they immediately launch into the tale of their long quest for pizza, and from there move on to school gossip. They sit around the dining table—with plates and napkins—and Clint fits right in, much to Phil’s relief.

They move to the living room with various snacks. Jasper claims the love seat, Maria takes her usual corner of the couch, and Clint settles into the other corner, leaving the middle for Phil.

Halfway through the movie, Maria shifts closer to Phil, and he tucks her against his side. He loves the easy affection between them stemming from having known each since they were little and never having to worry about what it might mean when she leans into him like that; just two queer kids seeking comfort in one another.

When Phil notices that Clint is trying his best not to let his toes touch Phil’s leg, he slides his hand on top of his feet and tugs gently. Clint gets the message and finally stretches out his legs, a soft smile coming over his face. Any hint of closeness is cautious and new between them, but no less welcome to Phil than the easy affection he shares with Maria. 

**

“So, uh, do you want to come to archery practice today?” Clint asks Phil the following Tuesday.

The question catches Phil off-guard. He’s considered stopping by before, but it’s very much Clint’s thing, and clearly important to him, so it felt wrong to show up unannounced. “I’d love to.”

A bright smile breaks out over Clint’s face. “Cool. 3pm.”

**

To say that Phil was unprepared for watching Clint shoot a bow would be an understatement.

Archery club starts out in an unremarkable way—there’s warm-up and some discussion about targets and who takes which bow and what kinds of skills should be the focus for this meeting. All very much what Phil expected. 

But then Clint takes his hoodie off, grabs a bow, and shoots five arrows in quick succession that all hit the bullseye. Phil is glad that he’s sitting down. It’s not even so much that Clint is wearing a sleeveless shirt that puts his arms on display—although they are very nice arms—but that he’s so clearly in his element, and that there’s an ease about him that belies the skill on display. Clint is good at many things, but seeing him with a bow is competence on a whole different level. It’s possibly the hottest thing Phil has seen in his life. 

“Careful there, you’re almost drooling,” Maria teases as she sits down on the bench next to Phil.

Phil glares at her because words are hard right now.

They watch Clint shoot five more arrows, which also hit their intended target.

“What brings you here?” Phil asks.

“Oh, you know, just checking out the latest activity our school has to offer,” she says with a shrug.

“I thought that was my job as Student Council president,” Phil retorts.

“Maybe I’m just here to take in the scenery.”

“Scenery?”

Maria gestures at their surroundings. “You know, guys, girls, fresh air, beautiful foliage, sunshine.”

Phil lowers his voice. “Come on, who are you here to watch?”

“Oh, no one in particular. You know I’m an equal opportunity player when it comes to this.”

Phil doesn’t believe that she isn’t there for a specific person, but he’s willing to let it go.

“What about you?” She asks.

“Clint invited me.” Phil has nothing to hide.

Maria nudges his side. “That’s awesome.”

“It’s nothing,” Phil mumbles through a smile.

Maria gives him a look of disbelief. “Okay, first, I know you don’t believe that. And second, because I’m a good friend: do you not see how he looks at you?”

Phil is saved from answering that when Clint jogs over and pulls a water bottle from his backpack. “Oh hey, Maria.” He looks happy and relaxed and flushed from exertion. Turning to Phil, he asks, “What d’you think so far?”

Phil’s mind goes blank when Clint drinks deeply from the bottle. 

“He was just saying that he’s impressed by how you can’t seem to miss,” Maria jumps in.

Clint laughs. “Oh, I miss, but thanks.” He looks pleased.

“You’re really good at this,” Phil manages.

Clint gives him a smile that makes his eyes shine. “Thanks. I, uh, better get back to it.”

He runs off and Phil lets his head drop into his hands with a groan. “I am so fucked,” he mutters.

Maria laughs and pats his back. “If you’re lucky!”

Phil shoots her a sideways glance. “I cannot believe you said that.”

“Admit that you’ve thought about it.”

Phil cannot deny that. 

“Hey, more seriously, though…this is great. Do something about that. Is he going to Homecoming?”

Phil sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Well, then, ask him.”

“I thought I was going with you and Jasper, like always.”

“Ask. Him.” 

Phil knows she means well, and that asking someone to a dance is totally normal, but considering Clint’s general feelings about school activities, it seems certain that he wouldn’t want to go. Maybe he’d go to the game. And that would be more casual, more like a friend thing. “I’ll see.”

Maria nods. “Even if he says no, I’m sure he’ll be flattered. And it tells him that you like him, too.”

Phil sighs again and looks at Clint, who draws back the bowstring with grace, takes a moment to concentrate, lets the arrow fly, and whoops when it hits the bullseye. Again.


	5. Homecoming

“So, have you thought about Homecoming?” Phil asks as he’s walking home with Clint.

“Is that this weekend?”

“Yes. The game is on Friday evening, and the dance is on Saturday night.” Phil should probably add a specific _And would you like to go with me?_ at the end of that, but he still isn’t sure if he really wants to ask Clint.

Clint glances at him. “So I guess you have to go because you’re on the prom committee and all that.”

“It probably would be weird if I didn’t go, but I don’t have to. I want to.” Phil looks at Clint for a reaction, but Clint’s gaze just roams like it often does when they walk together. “I know this sounds stupid, but I like events where the whole school comes together and everyone’s excited and gets along. Well, mostly gets along.”

“It’s not stupid,” Clint says. “But it’s not for me. Those dances always get awkward with people standing around and gossiping about who brought whom to the dance. The music usually sucks, too.”

So that was an indirect no to the dance. Phil respects that opinion. He’s been lucky to escape most of the anxiety of those social events because he’s been going to dances with Jasper and Maria since middle school and they’ve always done their own thing. By now, people are used to it. 

“What about the game?” Phil asks.

Clint’s expression says exactly what he thinks of a high school football game.

Phil smiles. “Ok, true. I don’t like football, either. But that’s not what this about.”

“It’s not? I thought that was the whole point. The whole school rallying behind the team.”

“Not for me. Yes, there is the whole ‘school spirit’ thing.” Which Phil secretly loves. “But it’s really about…it’s usually one of the first evenings when you can tell that fall has arrived. There’s a bite in the air, and you can hear the rustle of the leaves as you walk to the field. And student clubs usually sell cookies and hot drinks before the game. The cheerleading squad tries out their new routine, and it’s still a little wobbly, but they are enthusiastic about cheering instead of going through the motions like at the end of the season. And someone in the band always messes up at a crucial moment, but everyone claps anyway.” He looks over at Clint expecting to see a frown, but instead there’s that fondness again.

“I can see why you’re the Student Council president.”

Phil huffs.

“No, I’m serious.” And he is, Phil can tell. “It’s easy to see that you care. I might even be interested in going now.”

Maria’s _Ask. Him_ echoes through Phil’s mind. “You should come.” _I’d love it if you did_.

Clint jams his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know.”

Phil gathers all his courage. “I’d really like it if you went. With me.”

“Yeah?” Clint asks softly.

Phil nods. “Full disclosure, Jasper and Maria will be there, too.”

“That goes without saying.” Clint pauses. “Okay. Why not. I already traded shifts because I was planning to come to movie night again.” Clint gestures at the surrounding trees. “And since it’s not about the game, but about the experience of fall.”

Phil gives him a light shove. “Shut up.”

Clint laughs. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” He reaches out to give Phil’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I liked how you talked about it, or I wouldn’t have agreed to go.”

Phil looks at him, and Clint looks back, and Phil suspects that Clint can read every single feeling off Phil’s face. They both look down at the same time, Clint biting his lip to contain a smile. It’s a futile effort because it breaks through anyway, and Phil’s gaze is drawn back to Clint. He looks happy. It’s such a rare sight, and a thrill goes through Phil at the realization that he contributed to it.

**

As Phil climbs the bleachers on Friday evening, his heart is full: Clint is by his side, there’s hot apple cider, and Jasper and Maria’s laughter is infectious. They settle high up in the stands, which are filling rapidly. Music is blaring from the speakers, mixing with chatter from a few hundred voices. The shared excitement is palpable.

Clint sits down next to Phil, and Maria slides in next to Clint, and Jasper next to her. This far up, groups are more spread out; most people want to sit as close to the action as possible. That’s just fine with Phil. He gets the best of both worlds: sensing the energy from the crowd while remaining in a bubble with his friends.

The band appears, the cheerleaders perform, and then kick-off happens. Jasper passes a bag of his homemade nut mix around, and Maria shares her kettle corn. There’s a touchdown after ten minutes that has everyone jump to their feet.

As they sit back down, Clint leans over and says, “Okay, this isn’t bad.”

Warmth blooms in Phil’s chest. “So you’re not regretting that you came to show some school spirit?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but no regrets.” A shiver goes through Clint. “That wind certainly has the bite in it that you promised.”

Phil regrets not giving Clint a heads-up about bringing a warm jacket. Clint is in his usual hoodie, which could be fine if they sat in the lower section, packed in with people, but high up, there’s little shelter from the wind. “Let me know if you get too cold. I brought a blanket.”

“Will do, but I’m pretty used to the cold.”

Phil gets engrossed in the game, which continues to hover around a tie, with each team trading leads. Clint follows along, but also chats with Maria about people they know on the team. Not for the first time, Phil is grateful that Clint so seamlessly slotted into their group, and not just as a favor to Phil. 

When halftime rolls around, Maria and Jasper stand. “More cider?” Jasper asks. “They have free refills.”

“Yes, please.” Clint holds out his empty cup.

“I’m good.”

Jasper and Maria walk off, as do a number of other students. 

Phil turns to Clint to tell him about their post-game plans, but the words get stuck in his throat when he sees Clint hugging his arms close and drawing his shoulders up. He must be freezing. “Blanket?”

Clint nods. “Guess Jasper and Maria were good windbreakers, but it’s chilly without them.”

Chilly is an understatement. The forecast predicted temperatures in the 40s for the weekend, and considering the wind, Phil is sure that they’ve hit that point. He gets the enormous blanket from his backpack.

Clint takes one corner. “D’you want some of this, too?”

Phil doesn’t really need it, but the prospect of huddling under a blanket with Clint is too tempting. “Sure. And I sort of have a system.”

“Of course you do.” Clint smiles.

“Okay, follow my lead.” Phil stands.

They spread the blanket equally around their shoulders and make sure a good portion is tucked under their butts when they sit back down. Phil folds one end over both their laps. “Hold on to that end. And give me the other end.”

Phil spreads the remaining blanket back over their laps, and shoves the end under his thigh, creating an effective blanket burrito.

Clint hums and leans against Phil’s side. “This is much better.”

“Good.” Phil hesitates for a moment, then wiggles his arm around Clint’s waist. “Is this okay?”

With a sigh, Clint lets Phil take more of his weight. “Hmm.” His fingers find Phil’s under the blanket.

“Geez, these are ice cold.” Phil rubs some warmth into Clint’s hand.

“Didn’t really notice,” Clint mumbles.

Phil is sure that Clint noticed, but didn’t want to draw attention to himself. It worries Phil that Clint has such a hard time asking for basic things, especially when they have already been freely offered, like the granola bars or the blanket. Things that Phil wouldn’t think twice about if a friend offered them to him. He hopes that Clint will become more comfortable with accepting little things that can make his life better.

Jasper and Maria return just before halftime is up. While Clint and Maria are busy navigating the blanket burrito so Clint can get his cider, Jasper gives Phil a thumbs up, presumably because of the blanket situation. 

Phil is tempted to roll his eyes, but acknowledges Jasper’s gesture with a nod instead. He can’t deny that this is a happy-making development.

The fourth quarter drags on. Tension ripples through the stands, but Clint’s head keeps nudging Phil’s shoulder as he nods off. He finally straightens and scrubs a hand over his eyes. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’m exhausted. I worked the late shift last night and closing took forever and then I had to get up at four to finish—“ He yawns. “My Physics homework.”

Phil tightens his arm around Clint. “No apologies necessary. Take a nap if you need to. I really don’t mind.”

That makes Clint smile. “Alright.” He turns more fully into Phil’s hold and rests his head on his shoulder. It doesn’t take long until his breathing evens out. 

The game goes on around them, but Phil finds it difficult to focus. Clint feeling comfortable enough with him to let go like this feels like a precious gift. It also feels good to have Clint so close. Phil wants more of this if Clint is willing to give it.

Maria looks over at them. She looks down at Clint and up at Phil, a barely-there smile widening as she takes in the sight. She’s happy for him—for him and Clint—and that means a lot to Phil. 

A deafening roar goes through the crowd when their team wins the game with a three-point lead. Everyone’s on their feet again, including Maria and Jasper. Phil stays seated and lets the collective joy wash over him. 

Clint stirs and blinks his eye open. “We won?”

“Yes. It was close, but we did.” 

“Milkshakes at Culver’s?” Jasper asks.

“Obviously,” Maria replies. “Phil?”

Phil looks at Clint. “Do you want to come along?”

Clint fidgets with the edge of the blanket. “Thanks, but I’ll head home.”

“Curfew?” Jasper asks.

“Not exactly.” Clint doesn’t elaborate.

Maria grabs Jasper’s arm. “Why don’t we try to get the car out of the lot before the whole school wants to leave?” 

“Good idea. I have no desire to spend half an hour sitting behind some idiots. You coming, Phil?”

“Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.”

Jasper and Maria turn to leave. “We’ll wait at Maple and Jackson, but no rush,” Maria calls out as she’s walking.

Phil acknowledges her with a nod. He starts to unravel the blanket burrito. Clint helps him with folding the blanket.

As they work together, Phil asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to come? We’re going to Culver’s in town, not the one you work at. In case that makes a difference.”

“I figured you’d go to that one, but I’m still tired, and honestly, I’ve been on milkshake duty so often lately that I can’t stand the sight of them.”

That makes sense to Phil. As much as he’d like to spend more time with Clint, especially considering that they won’t see each other at the dance the next day, he respects Clint’s choice to call it a night. “How are you getting home?”

Clint shivers in the harsh wind. “I’ll walk. Buses stopped running half an hour ago.”

Worry spikes in Phil. It takes Clint at least forty-five minutes to get home, and it’s cold enough that Phil wishes he’d brought a hat. “Isn’t there anyone who could give you a ride? We could give you a ride, even. It’s just a little detour.”

“I wouldn’t call that ‘little.’ I’ll be fine. Really.” Clint rubs his hands over his arms.

“Then take my jacket.” It’s the least Phil can do. Trying to talk Clint out of walking home would be futile, but Phil can extend a bit of comfort. He unzips the jacket. “Please. I’ll be mostly inside anyway, and this sweater is really warm.”

Clint looks like he’s about to object, so Phil takes a step closer to him. “Please take it. Call me silly for worrying, but I do, okay? I can’t help it.” He takes off the jacket and holds it out to Clint.

A moment passes before Clint accepts it and puts it on. He leans in for a quick one-armed hug. When Phil wraps both his arms around Clint’s back—loose enough so he can pull away easily if he wants—Clint brings his other arm around Phil for a real hug.

Phil holds Clint tight. There’s so much he wants to say to Clint about how much he has come to mean to him, but his mind is blank. This has to be enough.

“Thank you,” Clint whispers, his lips brushing over Phil’s neck just before he pulls away. 

A shiver runs through Phil that has nothing to do with the cold. “Anytime.” _Anything_ , he wants to add. “Text me when you get home?”

Since they haven’t exchanged numbers yet, Clint holds out his hand for Phil’s phone and adds his number. Phil sends him a quick text so Clint has his number, too. 

“Better get going,” Clint says.

Phil really doesn’t want to, but he can feel the cold seeping under his skin. “Right.”

The stadium has mostly cleared out by now. They walk in silence to the school entrance where they need to part ways. 

“I had a good time,” Clint says. “Have fun tomorrow.”

“Thanks. I’ll send you some pics.”

Clint smiles. “Alright.”

Phil watches Clint walk away into the dark, and there’s an ache in his heart that he can’t quite describe.

**

At Culver’s, Phil keeps checking his phone every two minutes for a text from Clint. Jasper and Maria indulge his absent-mindedness and keep the conversation going even though Phil only hums and nods here and there. 

Finally, an hour after they parted ways, Clint texts. _Back home safe! I’ll come by tomorrow to return the jacket. 11am okay?_

“He’s home,” Phil says. _Yes. Goodnight._

Maria pats his arm, and Jasper says, “Okay, now that your brain has more space to focus on something else, please tell me you also think that our team’s defense strategy was atrocious.”

“It really was,” Phil agrees.

“It was not! It was a good attempt!” Maria protests.

They fall into familiar friendly bickering, and something in Phil’s chest eases even as he keeps remembering what it felt like to hold Clint.

**

When Phil gets home after milkshakes, his mom is sitting on the couch watching TV.

“Did you have a good time at the game?” She asks. 

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

Phil sinks into the cushions next to her. “I like him so much and I have no idea what to do about it.” It’s the first time he’s said that out loud. He almost told Jasper and Maria earlier, but he wasn’t prepared for a prolonged dissection of his feelings. It’s easier to tell his mom because she’ll let him talk for as long or as little as he needs.

“Oh, honey.” She slides an arm around his shoulders. “Do you think Clint feels the same way?”

“Maybe.” Phil slumps against her. “Possibly.”

“I don’t know how kids these days do the whole dating thing, but if taking someone to a movie is still a thing, you could try that.”

“I don’t know.” Phil can’t imagine asking Clint out on a date. That just feels weird. Even though he sort of asked Clint to the game.

“Or you could tell him how you feel—“

“Ugh, no.” Phil buries his head in her shoulder. 

“Okay, okay, so not that. You can wait for him to make the first move.”

Phil thinks he may wait a very long time in that case. He sighs. Maybe he should talk to Maria about this. Though Maria’s approach to romance is usually all in right away even if it leads to catastrophe. 

“Then keep spending time with him and show him that you care. Hopefully one thing will lead to another.”

That sounds like a safe plan. Phil is good at planning. He has an inkling that careful planning isn’t the solution here, though.

** 

Just after eleven the next morning, Clint shows up with Phil’s jacket. “Thanks again. Was a true life-saver.”

Phil takes the jacket and leans just inside to hang it up.

“Feel free to ask Clint to come in,” his mom calls out from the kitchen.

“Uh, do you want to?” Phil asks.

“I want to, but I can’t.” There’s regret in Clint’s voice. “I’m working a double shift that starts in an hour.”

Phil’s heart sinks at hearing that Clint will spend all day and evening at work while pretty much everyone else at school is out at the dance. “I could drive you.”

Clint waves him off. “You’ve already done so much for me, and I found a bus connection that actually works. I’m good.”

“Okay. See you Monday?”

“Definitely. And send me those pics you promised. I wanna see you all dressed up.” Clint winks at him.

Phil ducks his head. “How did you know I’d get dressed up?”

“Because you’re you.”

There’s a soft lilt to the words that hits Phil low in the gut. “You got me.” He pitches his voice low because two can play that game.

Clint swallows. “Well, I gotta go. Because the bus. Ok. Bye!”

“Bye.” 

Phil shakes his head at himself and this whole situation. He’s had crushes on people before, but this is different. It feels requited, and it’s getting harder to push aside.

But not yet impossible. He squares his shoulders and heads back inside to help his mom with the laundry. 

**

As always, Phil is impressed by how a few hours of work can transform the gym into a festive space. There’s no denying that it’s still the gym, but the balloons and low lights and decorations go a long way.

He takes pictures with Jasper and Maria at various photo booths and dutifully sends them to Clint, who replies exclusively in emojis. Normally, Phil finds an excessive use of them annoying, but Clint’s responses are endearing. Phil didn’t even know some of these emojis existed.

He also gets to catch up with people he hasn’t yet managed to talk to this year. Phil’s schedule is so packed that he only interacts with whoever is in his classes or activities, and he spends his precious free time with Jasper, Maria, and Clint. But there are people Phil is friendly with—former members of various clubs, people he got to know for class projects, even some former teachers—and he likes hearing what they have been up to. 

After he’s made the rounds, he’s happy to sit in a chair next to Maria and watch the dancing. He tries to soak it all up, aware that it’s one of the many ‘lasts’ this year—last first day of school, last football season, last Homecoming dance.

Maria dashes off to dance every once in a while. When a cheesy ‘80s ballad starts, she returns and tugs on Phil’s hand. “C’mon, dance with me.”

“I don’t—“

“Please? For me. For us. Because Amanda Wilcox is tragically straight, and Clint isn’t here.”

She has a point. Phil secretly loves this song, which she knows, and he would dance to it with Clint if he were there. “Fine.”

She leads him onto the dancefloor and wraps her arms around his neck. He holds her close, their cheeks touching, and they start swaying to the music. 

It’s nice, and uncomplicated, and exactly what Phil needed. He closes his eyes, trusting Maria to make sure they don’t bump into anyone. 

The slow beats transition into a fast, infectious song, and Phil decides what the hell and bops along to the music. It feels good to let go and laugh with one of his oldest friends. Jasper shows up at their side, Eva in tow, and joins in. Phil is happy for him; Jasper has pined for Eva for over a year, and it seems she finally noticed him.

They leave a little before the dance officially ends to beat the traffic. Walking across the dark parking lot, Phil looks up at the stars. He takes a deep breath of cold air. Without thinking about it too much, he takes out his phone and sends a text to Clint: _Hope you got home safe. Thinking of you._

They pile into Jasper’s SUV for the ride home, and Phil manages not to look at his phone again until he stands on his driveway.

Clint’s answer is a single purple heart.

**

The next morning, Phil’s mom makes pancakes for breakfast because it’s a special weekend. They trade pages of the Sunday New York Times back and forth. Phil is aware that he’s probably the only eighteen year-old in town who reads an actual paper, but he enjoys it. 

He spends the rest of the day on homework and college applications. Tired from a packed weekend, he heads to bed early, feeling more settled about the situation with Clint. They’ll take their time, and things will unfold the way they’re supposed to.


	6. The Accident

There’s a buzzing around Phil’s head that tugs him out of sleep. He swats at it, but soon realizes it’s not a late-season mosquito, but his phone jittering on the shelf next to him. He reaches for it and sees the display lit up with Clint’s name. It’s 1:14am.

“Hello?” Phil struggles upright.

“Hi, it’s me. Clint. Sorry—“ His voice cracks. “Sorry for calling so late, but can you—can you come to the hospital?”

Fear tears through Phil. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay, but there was an accident, and—can you please come here?” Clint sounds out of sorts.

“Of course. Of course I’ll come. It’ll probably take me twenty minutes, okay? But I’ll be there.”

“Thank you. I’m in the waiting room in the ER.” Clint hangs up.

Phil’s heart pounds. He reaches for his glasses and gets out of bed. He needs to tell his mom.

He knocks on her door. “Mom?” When she doesn’t answer, he opens the door. “Mom?” He tries again, louder.

He can see her shifting, and a second later, the bedside lamp comes on. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m fine, but Clint. He called me. He’s at the hospital and he asked me to come.”

She reaches for her phone. “Did he say what happened?”

“No, but can we go? Please?” Phil is under no illusion that his mom would let him go by himself, and honestly, he doesn’t want to. He has a feeling that this situation requires an actual adult.

She nods. “Let’s get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs.” 

Phil goes back to his room and throws on the first clothes he can grab. He slides his phone into his back pocket. Is there anything else he needs? That Clint might need? He can’t think of anything and heads down the stairs.

His mom comes down a few minutes later. She heads to the kitchen, and Phil follows her. “Here, fill this with water.” She hands Phil the reusable bottle she took off the dish rack. 

While Phil fills the bottle, she grabs an assortment of granola bars and little bags of chips and some chocolate. She stows everything in her bag. “Do you have your keys? Take them just in case.”

Phil reaches for his keys on the way out. 

The drive feels endless. Phil texts Clint that they’re on their way, but he doesn’t get a response. 

The ER is loud and bright and Phil instantly feels overwhelmed. He scans the room for Clint. He finally spots him tucked into a far corner and heads straight for him, certain that his mom will follow.

Clint sees him coming and stands. He’s pale and there are dark smudges under his eyes. When Phil is close, he strides toward him and pulls him into a hug. 

Phil is surprised, but holds him tight. Clint sucks in unsteady breaths, and Phil runs his hand down his back. “You’re okay. I’m here. It’s okay.” He looks over Clint’s shoulder at his mom, who looks back at him with concern.

“Let’s sit down,” she says gently.

Clint is unsteady on his feet, so Phil keeps an arm around him as they find their way to a few empty seats. Phil and his mom sit down on either side of Clint.

“Hi,” Clint says, his voice scratchy. “Thanks for coming.”

Phil rubs his back. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought my mom.”

Clint shakes his head.

“What happened?” Phil asks.

Clint’s eyes fix on the floor. “My mom was working late at the plant. Normally, she gets a ride from a friend, and they often pick me up at Culver’s so we can all go home together. But tonight, uh, last night, Sam—he works with me—said he could drive, so I caught a ride with him. He lives down the street.” Clint rubs his palms over his thighs. “So I get home and I notice the car isn’t there and my dad is gone, and—my dad. He drinks. A lot. And he can manage it, but he often doesn’t, and tonight…” Clint’s fingers curl into fists. “He decided to pick up my mom. He was drunk. He drove them straight into a tree.”

Phil’s heart is in his throat.

“My dad died before the ambulance even got there, and my mom—“ Clint’s voice wavers. “On the way to the hospital.” He half-swallows a sob.

The words ring in Phil’s ears. There’s static in his brain. He doesn’t know what to say. There is nothing he could say. 

He leans closer to Clint, who turns toward him. They sit together, heads close enough that Phil can hear Clint breathe. He finds one of Clint’s hands, which slides into his instantly. 

“I’m so sorry,” Phil’s mom says.

They sit in this awkward huddle for long minutes until Clint pulls away and swipes a hand over his face.

“When is the last time you had something to drink?” Phil’s mom asks as she pulls the water bottle from her bag.

“Can’t remember,” Clint mumbles.

“Here.” She holds out the bottle, which Clint accepts with shaky hands. She unpacks the snacks next. “I know you probably aren’t hungry and feel like you can’t eat anything, but have a few bites of something.”

Clint has a few sips of water and takes a bag of chips. It takes him a few tries to get the bag open.

Phil wonders if someone did this for his mom the night his father had a stroke. If someone was there who knew what to say and what to do. He’s utterly grateful that she’s here because he knows he’s useless in this situation. 

Clint makes it through half of the chips. “I can’t, I’m sorry, Julie.”

She takes the bag from him. “That’s fine. Have some more water?”

Clint drinks some more. 

“Is your brother coming?” Phil asks. Iowa City is only a few hours’ drive away.

“No. I tried calling, but his number is disconnected. So I emailed, and he wrote back right away. Turns out he’s in fucking Australia.” Clint looks angry. “Study abroad. He doesn’t have any money to fly back.”

“Shit.” It just slips out of Phil’s mouth.

“Yeah. Well, fuck him.” 

In a much more diplomatic tone, Phil’s mom says, “I’m sorry that your brother won’t be able to come home. You know that you can count on Phil and me, right?”

Clint fidgets. “Thanks, but—”

“No,” Phil interrupts. Irritation laps up in him, but he takes a breath to push it down. There’s no point to anger right now. Clint needs the opposite of it. He takes Clint’s hand again. “We’re not going to leave you to deal with this alone. I know my mom is going to do whatever she can, and I’ll be right here.” He squeezes Clint’s hand. “Okay?” He waits until Clint looks at him. 

There’s so much uncertainty in Clint’s eyes. Phil knows he can’t take that away overnight, especially not after what just happened. But he’s up for the challenge. It’s one thing he knows he can do.

“Okay,” Clint says slowly.

Footsteps come closer and stop in front of them. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” a woman says.

Phil looks up. It’s a doctor. Then, after a moment, he realizes that it’s Maggie, one of his mom’s friends. Clint straightens as well. 

Turning to Clint, Maggie says. “There are a few more forms to fill out if you’re up for it. We can go to my office.” She looks at Phil’s mom. “Thanks for coming. I suggested to Clint that he should call someone.”

“Phil and Clint are good friends,” she replies. 

Clint stands, a determined look on his face. “Let’s go.”

“Julie, if it’s okay with Clint, you can come along, too,” Maggie says.

Clint nods. “That’d be good.”

“Isn’t that against hospital policy?” 

Maggie and Julie exchange looks that contain a whole conversation. “I’ll make an exception.”

Phil can only suspect that those forms involve some tough decisions. Thank goodness Clint won’t have to face those by himself. 

“Phil, why don’t you go wait in the car?” His mom suggests.

That’s a good idea. Phil’s composure is fraying at the seams, and the ER waiting room would unravel it further. “Clint’s coming home with us, right?”

“Of course.” Before Clint can even open his mouth, she adds, “No discussion.”

Clint lets out a breath. “Thanks. I—I was actually hoping you might let me stay with you. Just for a bit.”

“For as long as you need,” she replies. With a light touch to his back, she says, “Let’s fill out the forms and then we can go home.”

**

Phil nods off a minute after he gets into the car, and only wakes up when the doors open. He considers moving to the back seat to sit with Clint, but he doesn’t want to be overbearing.

They don’t talk during the drive. Soft classical music from his mom’s favorite radio station fills the car. 

Back home, Phil’s mom says, “We’ll set you up on the couch, Clint. Let me get some sheets and Phil can pick out pajamas for you.”

“Thanks,” Clint mumbles.

Phil follows his mom upstairs. Going through his drawer, he chooses his softest flannel PJ pants and a T-shirt that is slightly too big for him, but should fit Clint just right. He meets his mom in the hallway and she lays a towel and new toothbrush on top of Phil’s bundle.

Clint still stands where they left him. Phil hands him the clothes. “I hope these work.”

“I’m sure they will.”

Phil’s mom sets the sheets down on the couch. “If you want to get ready for bed, the bathroom’s upstairs. I left the light on.”

Clint makes his way up the stairs. Phil can hear the bathroom door close. He and his mom work together to get the couch ready. It ends up looking cozy; his mom picked various shades of blue, and the comforter and pillow look fluffy. Still, Phil wishes Clint had an actual bed to sleep in.

“What happens now?” Phil asks. 

“Sleep,” his mom replies. “And then we’ll take things one step at a time.”

Phil can do that. He’s also glad when she pulls him into a hug. It makes him realize how exhausted he is. 

Clint returns, his clothes in hand. They are neatly folded and he places them on the floor next to the couch. He sets his phone on the coffee table.

“I’ll head to bed,” Phil’s mom announces. “I’ll call the school early tomorrow to let them know you’re both taking the day off.” Phil is relieved. He usually hates missing school, but it’s after 3am, and he doesn’t want to leave Clint by himself. “Clint, please help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you get hungry. Good night.”

Phil and Clint mumble good night back at her. Once she is upstairs, Clint settles on the couch. “Come sit with me for while?”

They both get under the comforter, and Clint leans into Phil’s side. They shift around until they’re both comfortable. It’s similar to how they sat together at the game, but feels utterly different.

Phil still isn’t sure what to say or if there is anything that he could say that would help the pain Clint must feel, so he keeps quiet. Even though he isn’t the one who needs comforting, it’s reassuring to hold Clint. Phil wonders for how long Clint pondered whether or not he should call Phil. Knowing Clint, it couldn’t have been an easy decision. Even though it doesn’t fix anything, at least Clint is in a safe place with people who care about him. 

When Clint’s body goes heavy with sleep, Phil carefully slips out of his hold and helps him lie down. He pulls the comforter up to Clint’s shoulders. Hopefully, Clint can get at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Phil switches off the lamp next to the couch, but leaves the small light on the hallway table turned on. He doesn’t want Clint to be more disoriented than necessary if he wakes up when it’s still dark out.

When Phil is back in his own bed, he sends a text to Jasper and Maria about him and Clint not being in school the next day. He doesn’t explain further—news about the accident will be all over school anyway. 

Sleep catches up with him almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

**

Phil wakes up at ten the next morning. He can’t even remember the last time he slept that late. He takes a shower, gets dressed, and heads downstairs. 

He’s surprised to find his mom sitting at the dining room table with Clint—she should have left for work two hours ago. They’re looking at something on her laptop, empty coffee cups next to them.

“Morning,” He greets them. “Do you want me to make more coffee for all of us?”

“That would be lovely. Thank you, honey.”

Clint looks up at Phil, exhaustion etched into his face. Phil wishes he could wave a magic wand to make everything better. While he can’t do that, there are things he can do. “I’m getting some cereal. Do you want some, too?”

Clint nods.

As Phil gets breakfast ready, he picks up snippets of the conversation in the dining room. He thinks it’s about the type of lease Clint’s parents have on their house, and how to dissolve it. There must be so much to discuss—so many things to take care of. 

He collects the empty mugs and refills them. He has no idea how Clint takes his coffee, so he juggles milk and sugar along with the mugs on his return trip. 

“I wasn’t sure…” He says when he sets everything down. “And we only have Cheerios. I hope that’s okay. I can cut some banana into it.”

Clint reaches for the sugar first, then the milk. “Both is fine.”

That wasn’t the most ringing endorsement, but Clint probably has other things on his mind than what kind of cereal to have for breakfast.

Phil quickly pours cereal and slices the bananas, then brings both to the table. He has to go back to the kitchen to retrieve his coffee, which he needs more today than other days. 

They eat in silence while his mom types on her computer. Work emails, Phil imagines. Questions for Clint float through his brain, like _How are you?_ and _Did you get enough sleep?_ , but they feel both too invasive.

“Have you heard from Jasper and Maria?” Clint asks. “Did they—are people talking about what happened?”

“They texted me early this morning, but nothing since then.” Phil hesitates. “They’re both really sorry.” That sounds so trite in Phil’s ears. “And just based on my experience, I’d say that yes, people are probably talking already.”

“Figures.”

Phil swallows the _I’m sorry_ that’s on the tip of his tongue. “Maria is unfortunately right that the school can be a giant gossip machine.”

That brings a grim expression to Clint’s face. 

They fall back into silence, and when Clint has finished eating, he stands. “I’ll take a shower if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Phil’s mom says. “Please help yourself to whatever is in the bathroom.”

“Um, do you want to borrow some clothes?” Phil asks. The only clothes Clint has with him are from yesterday, after all.

Clint barely hesitates. “That’d be great.”

They walk up to Phil’s room. He points to the dresser. “Underwear and socks are in the top drawer, and T-shirts in the second. Sweatpants in the bottom one. Do you want a sweatshirt, too?” 

“I have my hoodie.” 

Clint really has a special relationship with that hoodie. “Okay. Pick whatever you want. I’ll be downstairs.”

He leaves Clint to choose what he wants to wear because it feels just a little too weird to hover next to him as Clint picks out a pair of boxers.

Back in the kitchen, Phil gets more coffee and returns to the dining table. His mom gives him a quick smile. “How are you?” She asks, and Phil knows she wants an honest answer.

“I’m okay. Tired. Worried about Clint.”

His mom closes her laptop. “I came downstairs this morning to make coffee and Clint was already up.” That must have been around six. “I just didn’t have the heart to leave him by himself.”

“And there must be a lot to talk about.”

“There is. You don’t have to worry about that, though.”

Phil understands why she says that, and honestly, he doesn’t have the knowledge or experience to be useful for all the things coming Clint’s way, but it still makes him feel like he’s not pulling his weight. “Thanks for helping him.”

She looks at him with earnestness. “We’re both helping him. He needs a friend by his side as much as someone who can walk him through everything else.”

“What about…the funeral?”

“We’re working on that. The first thing we should do today is go by Clint’s house to pick up some things he needs. I’ll have to put in a few hours of work to get caught up on the things that can’t wait, but we can go later this afternoon. And maybe pick up some take-out on the way back.”

Phil drinks the last of his coffee. “That sounds good.” He gets up to clear the table and load the dishwasher. 

His mom takes her laptop. “I’ll be in my office. Get me if you need anything?”

“I will.”

**

After Phil retrieves his laptop from upstairs, he and Clint settle on the couch. It’s close to noon; if they were in school, they’d be heading to lunch now.

“Any homework assignments?” Clint asks, peering at Phil’s email.

“Uh, yeah. Lit and Government.”

“Can I see the Lit homework?”

Phil pulls it up and Clint moves closer to read over Phil’s shoulder. “That’s not bad.”

“I’m sure everyone understands if you skip a few assignments.”

“I don’t wanna fall behind.” Softer, Clint adds. “And it’s something to think about that’s not the accident.”

Phil gets that. Even just looking at his emails, with various notes and announcements, feels like a tiny sliver of normalcy. “If you want to borrow any of my books before we can get your stuff, let me know.”

“Maybe your copy of _Their Eyes Were Watching God_ so I can start on Lit?”

“Let me get it.”

Phil also gets his Government textbook, some pens, and a blank notebook. He sits down in the same spot, right next to Clint. “I thought you might want to take notes.” 

“I do.” Clint takes the novel, notebook, and pen, and they start working.


	7. Revelations

The sun is setting when they drive to Clint’s house. Clint gives directions from the passenger seat. Phil gave up on the idea that Clint lived in the new subdivision a while ago, but he still hoped for something better than the dilapidated house at which they stop.

They get the duffel bag and a few grocery totes from the trunk. Clint assured them that they wouldn’t need more. 

When they walk inside, Phil has to muster every ounce of self-control not to let his shock show on his face. There is very little furniture, the wallpaper has seen better days, and there’s mold in the corner of the ceiling.

“We can start in my room,” Clint says without looking at either Phil or his mom.

Clint’s room is as bare the rest of the house: there’s a mattress on the floor, a lamp next to it, and a rickety shelf. School supplies are in neat stacks on the floor next to Clint’s backpack.

Phil gestures at them. “Should I pack those?” He’s glad his voice doesn’t betray the turmoil he feels. 

“Sure.” Clint opens the closet door and stuffs his clothes into the duffel.

“I’ll go to the kitchen and pack up the food,” Phil’s mom says.

Phil notices that Clint pulls sweaters, jeans, T-shirts, underwear, and socks from his closet, but no jacket. “Do you have a jacket? It’s going to get cold fast now.”

Clint squares his shoulders. “I threw out my old one before we moved. Figured I’d make enough money to get a new one in the fall, but money’s been tighter than usual, so I gave most of what I made to my mom to help out.”

Phil wishes he didn’t ask. “If you want, you can borrow one of mine until you can get one.” He hopes the offer doesn’t come across as patronizing.

“Maybe I will,” Clint says. “It’s been cold in the mornings on the walk to school.”

Phil has enough self-awareness to hold back on the suggestion that they can ride to school together from now on. That’s a topic for another day. 

It only takes Phil and Clint a few minutes to finish packing. Clint reaches under his mattress and pulls out a tattered manila envelope. “My birth certificate and so on.” He adds it to the backpack of school supplies.

“Is there anything else you want to get?” Phil asks.

“A few things.”

Phil follows Clint to the other bedroom. Phil hovers on the threshold; it feels wrong to go inside the room. 

Clint looks through a dresser until he finds what he’s looking for: a wooden box, which he adds to the duffel bag. He opens the closet and studies the clothes inside, finally reaching for a light green sweater. Phil guesses it belonged to his mom. It goes into the duffel, too. 

“Okay, that’s it. Let’s find your mom.” Clint brushes past Phil.

When they get to the kitchen, Phil’s mom is tying a knot in a garbage bag. “I packed up all the staples and the condiments. There were some leftovers that I threw out. Do you want to take any of the dishes, Clint?”

“No.”

“Okay. You have some time to think about them, or anything else in the house. We have a few weeks until we have to clear out everything. And don’t worry, I know people who can help.” She picks up the garbage. “Phil, why don’t you take the food since Clint has his hands full already?”

All the food fits into two bags, the kind that Phil’s mom takes shopping. That wouldn’t even be half a weekly shopping trip from Phil’s point of view. He was so wrong about Clint’s life, and he feels embarrassed by some of the things he said to him. Clint must think that he’s terribly naïve. In all fairness, that’s probably true. Phil has learned things about poverty, but he has no experience with it. Neither do his longtime friends. 

They take the garbage out. Phil’s mom heads to the car, but Clint takes a moment to look back at the house. Phil waits next to him.

“I never wanted you to see this,” Clint says.

Phil doesn’t know how to respond, so he remains silent.

“Not because I’m ashamed that my folks are—were—poor. But because I’ve been the poor kid with the alcoholic dad my whole life and I thought—” he breaks off. Takes a breath. “I thought maybe I could just be me here. Just someone who isn’t all that different from everyone else.”

Looking at the crumbling house in front of him, in what many would consider the bad part of town, Phil understands why Clint wasn’t forthcoming about this part of his life. He likes to think that it wouldn’t have made any difference, but it was certainly easier to get to know Clint as the guy who likes archery and physics and Captain America comics.

“Anyway, let’s go.” Clint turns to leave.

“Wait,” Phil says. He doesn’t want Clint to think that he doesn’t have a reaction to what Clint shared. “I—” Phil was about to say sorry again, but it’s so hollow even if he wishes that none of this happened to Clint. “I’m glad you reached out. To me and my mom. I know that must have been hard.”

It’s Clint’s turn not to say anything in response. Not in words, at least, as sadness and determination are plain to see in his eyes.

They walk back to the car, and stow the bags in the trunk. Phil gets into the backseat with Clint, which earns him an odd look. The look softens when Phil rests his hand on the seat, palm up. An invitation. Clint locks their fingers together. His chest rises and falls with a sigh.

A few minutes into the drive, Phil’s mom brings up take-out. It suddenly feels like such a luxury to Phil—it is certainly a treat for them, too, but overall a familiar part of his life. His mom must have similar thoughts because she guides the conversation in such a way that Clint has an input on what they get without being put on the spot. 

They pick up a decent amount of Chinese—enough for leftovers, but not so much that it seems overly indulgent. Or at least not to Phil.

Back in the car, Clint says, "I can start chipping in for food when I get my next paycheck. You don’t need to pay for everything.”

Phil knows that his mom won’t accept that, but he isn’t surprised to hear her sidestep Clint’s offer. “We can talk about that once we’ve addressed more urgent things, okay?” Her tone is kind and understanding. 

“Alright,” Clint concedes.

**

When they straighten up the kitchen after dinner, Phil’s mom asks, “What about school tomorrow? Do you want me to call in sick for you two again?”

Clint looks at Phil, who is certain that Clint would only stay home if he did, too. “Yes. Another day would be good.”

“I agree.” Clint sounds relieved.

“I’ll call in the morning, then.” Phil’s mom folds the dishtowel over the oven door. “How about we watch a movie?”

Phil likes the idea, but waits until Clint nods to agree. They move into the living room—Clint takes the love seat, and Phil and his mom take corners of the couch. They agree on the Captain America movie from a few years ago, which Phil loves, his mom tolerates, and Clint hasn’t seen. It’s just the kind of entertainment that works for a day like this.

Phil sneaks glances at Clint during the movie; he doesn’t seem entirely focused on what’s happening on the TV. Even Phil cannot pay his full attention to one of his favorite movies, so he can only imagine what’s going through Clint’s mind.

After the movie ends, Phil’s mom wishes them a good night and heads upstairs. It’s a little early for her to head to bed, but he appreciates that she’s giving them some space to be alone.

Clint gets up and sits next to Phil, curling into his side. Phil wraps his arms around him. “Why didn’t you come sit with me during the movie?”

“That just seemed weird with your mom there.”

“She wouldn’t mind.” 

“I figured, but still. I’d feel weird.”

That’s a fair point. Clint doesn’t know Phil’s mom very well yet, and Phil would probably feel the same way if their roles were reversed. 

Phil wonders if he should suggest they watch something else, but Clint seems content to stay like this—close and quiet. The last day plays back in Phil’s mind. It feels much longer than eighteen hours since he went to the hospital, and there is a heaviness to the events that lodges in Phil’s chest. He cannot even begin to imagine what it’s like for Clint. 

Phil has almost dozed off when he notices Clint wiping his eyes. He keeps doing it a few times, and Phil is about to offer him a tissue when Clint says, “It’s so fucking unfair. I was prepared to come home one day and find out that my dad’s gone. Finally drunk himself to death in some way. But my mom—” His voice wavers. “She tried so hard all the time. Even with him. And now…” He pulls out of Phil’s hold and doubles over, hands pressed to his face. “Fuck.” 

Phil rests a hand on Clint’s back. He can feel that he’s crying more than hearing him, soft sobs shaking through his shoulders. Phil takes off his glasses before he leans closer, resting his cheek against Clint’s bent back. Phil runs his hand up and down, up and down, until Clint quiets.

Another minute passes before Clint sits up. 

Phil reaches for the Kleenex on the side table and holds the box out to Clint, who blows his nose.

Clint’s eyes are still watery when his gaze fixes on Phil. “Am I just a blurry blob to you right now? Without your glasses?”

The question comes so out of left field that it throws Phil for a moment. “No. I’m near-sighted. I can see you pretty clearly.”

Clint makes a face. “I wouldn’t want to look at myself right now.”

 _I always want to look at you_. Even in this moment, when all the hurt is visible in the tension around Clint’s eyes and the lines of his mouth. Phil opens his arms. “Come here.”

Clint follows, exhaling against Phil’s chest. “I’m just so tired.”

“Shall we set up your bed?”

“Not yet. Tell me a story?”

“What kind of story?” Telling stories isn’t Phil’s forte. 

“Anything. Stupid childhood stuff. Bonus points for including Jasper and Maria.”

Phil searches his memory. “Okay, well, I only learned how to ride a bike when I was eight.”

Clint gives him a dubious look.

“I’m not sure why it took so long, either. Anyway, one afternoon, a group of us were playing on Maria’s street and someone had the idea to set up a little bike parkour. Everyone got out their bikes. Except for me. And instead of leaving me to watch everyone else race around, Maria and Jasper took me aside and taught me how to ride a bike. Well, they said, ‘just climb on and start pedaling.’”

Clint laughs. “Oh no.”

“It went fine at first, but no one thought about telling me how to stop. So I crash-landed in a pile of leaves and scraped my knees pretty bad. Maria’s mom patched me up, and—“

“You went right back on that bike.”

Phil ducks his head. “Yeah. By the end of the afternoon, I got the hang of it.”

“Of course you did.” Clint yawns. “Okay, I’m ready for bed.”

They arrange the sheets, comforter, and pillow. Phil hovers uncertainly, aware that it’s time to part for the night, but it doesn’t sit well with him. “If you need anything, I’m right upstairs.”

Clint gives him an indulgent look. “I know. I’ll be okay.”

Phil isn’t sure about that. He imagines that it’s easier to keep spiraling thoughts at bay during the day, when there are things to do, but when it’s dark and quiet and everyone else is asleep, there are no real distractions. “Well, good night, then.”

“Night.”

Phil heads upstairs, goes through his evening routine in the bathroom, and climbs into bed. He hasn’t looked at his phone in hours, and is happy to see a number of texts from Maria and Jasper in their group chat. It’s equal parts updates on the school gossip, silly memes, and homework information. It’ll be good to see them again on Wednesday.

After wasting some more time on his phone, Phil turns off the light. He’s tired and his bed is comfortable. He tries to focus on some of the good things that have happened recently, but his thoughts keep returning to Clint. 

Phil tosses and turns for a while longer before he gives up on sleep. He knows what he wants to do, but he wonders if it’s really for Clint’s benefit, or if Phil’s own longing skews his thoughts. Maybe Clint wants some space. 

But then Phil remembers how Clint came to him the moment they were alone, and how he has welcomed every bit of affection Phil has offered.

Phil throws back the covers, puts on his glasses, and quietly makes his way downstairs.

“Phil?” Clint calls out before he has even made it all the way into the living room.

“Yeah, sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” Phil walks over to the couch and sits down when Clint makes some space for him. There’s enough light coming in from the street lights to make out Clint’s face. “Did I wake you?”

“No.” Softer, he adds, “Too many thoughts.”

“Do you…” Phil begins. Maybe this is stupid. Maybe he should just sit with Clint for a while longer and then go back to bed.

“What?”

“I was wondering if you—if you want come upstairs?” Phil’s heart beats faster. “To sleep. That way, you wouldn’t have to be alone down here.”

Clint just looks at him.

Oh god, this was a huge mistake. Phil wants to reel in those words. He looks at the carpet, waiting for Clint tell him that he’s old enough to sleep by himself. 

“You mean, in your room?” Clint asks. 

Phil nods. 

“Thanks, but—“ Here we go. “I think the couch is more comfortable than your floor.”

Floor? Phil is confused. “No, I mean….of course I don’t want you to sleep on the floor.” 

“Oh. You mean—”

“Only if you want. And just to sleep, not…” Not what? Why did he say that? They haven’t even acknowledged that they like each other like _that_ , and besides, that’s the furthest from Phil’s thoughts at the moment. He wants to forget all words in the English language. Or sink to the bottom of Lake Michigan. 

Clint’s hand closes around his arm. “Hey.” Phil reluctantly looks back at him. He’s surprised to see a fond expression on Clint’s face. “I do want to.”

Relief washes over Phil. Maybe he didn’t fuck this up. “Okay.” He stands to make room for Clint to get up.

Clint grabs his pillow and they walk upstairs. Phil closes the door of his room behind them.

Standing in front Phil’s bed, Clint asks, “Can I sleep on the side next to the wall?”

“Sure.” 

“And can we shut the curtains?”

Phil usually leaves them open, but he draws them close as Clint gets into bed. “There.”

They lie down and Phil takes off his glasses and turns off the light. For half a minute, neither of them moves. Then Clint turns on this side, his back to Phil. 

Phil isn’t sure what to do now. This is entirely new territory for him, and maybe he should have thought this through a little more. Is this just the position in which Clint likes to sleep? Does he want to make sure he doesn’t crowd Phil? Or—

Clint’s hand reaches back, finding Phil’s wrist and tugging. “C’mon.”

Yeah, okay. That’s a clear sign. Phil fits himself around Clint, his knees folding into the space left by Clint’s legs, his arm wrapped around Clint’s chest, and his face tucked into Clint’s nape. Phil can feel every breath Clint takes. Feels the muscles in Clint’s leg work as he shifts his feet.

Phil has been close to Clint a few times over the last couple of days, but this is different. A different kind of closeness, one that exceeds comfort between friends. And it feels deeply right, like this is how they’re supposed to be together—this is something they both want and need.

**

Phil wakes because Clint startles next to him. Then his mom’s voice floats through the door. “Phil?” Followed by a knock. Probably not the first.

Sluggish with sleep, Phil sits up. “’s just my mom.” He clicks on the light. Both he and Clint flinch away from it. “Just a sec!” He calls out. “Sorry,” he says to Clint, whose chest rises and falls with quick breaths. “I’ll see what she wants.” 

Phil slides on his glasses and makes his way to the door. 

“Is Clint with you?” His mom whispers, worry plain in her voice.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, good. I came downstairs and saw the empty couch…” She trails off.

“We’re both fine. Clint slept in my bed.’

“Alright. I’ll let you go back to sleep.”

Phil nods and closes the door. When he settles back into bed, Clint gives him a questioning look. “She was wondering if you were with me.”

“Did she say anything? About that?”

“No.” Phil takes off his glasses. “I honestly don’t think she minds.”

“Your mom’s cool.”

Phil smiles. “Yeah, she is.” 

“What time is it anyway?”

“Early.” Phil reaches for his phone. “6:27.”

Clint wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, let’s go back to sleep.”

Phil switches off the light. Clint rolls into his side, tangling his leg with Phil’s. Clint’s arm wraps loosely around Phil’s waist.

It doesn’t take long until Phil drifts off.

** 

Over breakfast, Phil asks, “So, this morning, when my mom knocked on the door, you seemed a little freaked out.” Noticing this has been niggling at Phil, and if there’s anything he can do to make this easier for Clint, he wants to know. 

Clint slowly sets down his spoon. “Yeah, that.” He looks down at his bowl of cereal. “Okay, so. I told you before that I don’t like being woken up suddenly. The thing is, ever since I was little, my dad has come home drunk late at night about once a week. And he’d always bang around the house, making a lot of noise. Yelling, too. It was scary. And I know that a knock on the door isn’t the same, but it brings it all back.”

Phil almost wishes he didn’t ask. It seems like every time Clint shares something about his past, some new awful thing surfaces. Phil hopes that not everything in Clint’s home life was bad. “Is there anything I can do? Or my mom? She doesn’t knock on my door often when I’m asleep, but it happens, and I don’t want you to have to go through this every time.”

Clint shrugs. “I’m kinda used to it by now. And it goes away fast. I just need to know where I am and that I’m safe. This morning, you were right there and then you told me it was your mom and that was enough.”

Phil finds Clint’s nonchalance unsettling, but he also needs to trust Clint on this. It makes him wonder which other coping mechanisms Clint has developed and if there’s any chance he can start to unlearn them. “Okay. But if there’s anything else, let me know?”

Clint glances up at him. “Sure.” 

They continue eating.

When Clint is done, he pushes his bowl aside. “That sounded fucked up, right? What I told you about how I’m used to waking up in a panic?”

Phil isn’t sure what to say. “You learned how to cope with really extraordinary circumstances.”

“That’s what I mean. I know that what went down at home wasn’t normal, but it’s also all I’ve known.”

This is a lot to process at 10:30 in the morning. “You know you’re safe here, right?”

Clint nods. Sadness is back in his eyes. “I just wish I’d gotten here for a different reason.”

Phil reaches for his hand. As before, Clint takes it without hesitation. “Me too.”


	8. Small Steps

On Monday morning, no one pays attention to Clint. There’s a buzz of excitement going through the school; a clear sign that something new has captured everyone’s attention. Phil only has to wait until the prom committee meeting to find out what it is: SarahKate Kleister and Sean Brett-Donoghue made out with each other at a recent party even though they are both officially dating other people on the football team and cheerleading squad, respectively. A crystal-clear photo offers proof.

At lunch, Phil tells Maria, “I don’t know if I should praise you for taking the spotlight off of Clint or comment on your invasion of privacy.”

“Wait, that was you?” Clint asks.

Maria stabs a potato. “That party was basically a public event and I was taking pictures for the paper. If certain actions got caught in the background, well. It’s not my fault that the new camera we have has excellent resolution when you zoom in.” Turning to Clint, she adds, “If Model UN has taught me anything, it’s the value of being able to redirect a conversation with the help of strategically valuable information.”

“Thank you. Seriously. I was kinda dreading school today. Now the only thing I have to worry about is my Physics quiz.”

“Which you will ace,” Jasper throws in.

“I sure hope so,” Clint affirms.

Phil reaches over to squeeze Maria’s hand, and they share a brief look, and Phil knows that’s enough to convey to her how grateful he is. But he’ll still drop off a box of Maria’s favorite donuts for her next Model UN meeting.

**

Phil goes to archery practice on Tuesday. His eyes stay on Clint, who has been eager to get his hands on a bow again. It’s such a joy to watch him even if it is too cold for a sleeveless shirt. Phil knows the muscles that hide under Clint’s sweatshirt; he can feel them every time Clint’s arms come around him or when he’s holding Clint. But the best thing remains seeing how Clint loses himself in shooting his bow. Phil can see it in his face and his stance.

Clint barely takes a break, only pausing briefly to retrieve arrows or drink some water. He’s pushing himself, and by the end of practice, he’s soaked in sweat but looks content. He smiles at Phil before disappearing into the locker room. 

They meet at the truck. Clint walks right up to Phil and hugs him. 

“Any reason for this?” Phil asks as he folds his arms around Clint.

“Just because.” One of his hands settles on the back of Phil’s neck. “Because I almost feel okay for the first time in a week.”

That’s certainly enough of a reason. Phil holds on tight until Clint lets go of him.

**

When Phil tables for the GSA on Spirit Day, Clint comes bounding down the hallway half-way through fourth period.

“Got a hall pass to come say hi,” he announces with a mischievous look on his face. “Ok, technically for going to the bathroom.”

“Hi,” Phil replies. Next to him, Holly is suddenly very focused on re-shuffling various pamphlets. “Do you want a button?”

“I’d love one.” Clint selects a purple button with a rainbow heart. “Thanks.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Phil’s cheek. “Happy Spirit Day! Gotta go.”

A little stunned, Phil watches as Clint sprints down the hall.

“I didn’t know you two were dating,” Holly says.

“We’re not.” 

“Uh-huh, sure.” 

Phil sighs. “Really, we’re not. We’re just close.” Holly doesn’t look convinced. “Believe me or not, but please don’t spread any rumors. Clint doesn’t need that in his life right now.”

“Fine, but that boy has feelings for you. It’s super mega obvious.”

Phil hopes that she’s right.

**

On the drive home, Phil says, “Seems like you had a good day.” He notices that Clint has pinned the button to his fleece jacket.

“I did. Even at my old school, it was one out of maybe two days a year when all the homophobes would have to shut up and there was some sort of acknowledgement that we’re not all straight.”

Phil can relate to that sentiment. Sure, most students at least pretend to be accepting most of the time, but on Spirit Day, the queer kids and their allies are much more vocal about claiming space and recognition. “I really like that, too.”

“Bet you worked hard for all the stuff that happened today.”

“It wasn’t just me. Everyone in the GSA has been working on pushing the boundaries more each year.” All the banners, buttons, and tabling are great, but their greatest achievement this year was sneaking safe sex info into one of the bland-looking pamphlets they handed out.

“In that case, you’re all awesome and I and many others appreciate it,” Clint says with a warm smile.

“I’ll be sure to share that at the next meeting. To which you are, as always, very much invited.” Phil thinks Clint would enjoy working with the GSA.

“Yeah, I know.” Clint glances at Phil. “Keep asking, and who knows, I might just show up someday.”

That’s good enough for Phil.

** 

After a few days of Clint seeming fine, even content, Phil gets a reminder that grief is unpredictable and ongoing.

When Phil comes downstairs after showering on Saturday morning, he sees Clint hunched over a form at the dining table. There have been many forms in Clint’s life recently, so Phil isn’t surprised. When he carries his breakfast over to the table, he catches the top of the form as he walks past. It says Wisconsin Funeral and Cemetery Aids Program.

“Is it okay if I sit, or…” Phil wonders if Clint would prefer to fill out those forms without anyone around.

Clint nods.

Phil sits and starts eating. He looks at things on his phone without processing what he’s reading. Clint’s pen scratches on paper every once in a while until he sets it down with a decisive thunk.

“I can’t do this.” Clint rubs his eyes. “I don’t know half the information they ask for.”

“I’m sure my mom could help. She should be back from the store soon.”

“I know, she said we’d do it together, but she’s been helping me so much, so I wanted to try this on my own, but I can’t.” Clint pushes the form away and leans back in his chair. “I’m tired of all this. I’m tired of hurting all the time. Maybe—maybe if I could have some time to just deal with the fact that my parents are gone, and not also have to decide what the cheapest way is to bury them, or what do about their bank account, or the lease.” 

Phil isn’t sure if Clint wants an answer, or if he only needed to say those things out loud. “Can Barney help at all?”

Clint snorts. “Not likely. He basically said I should make all the decisions. Fair enough, I guess, since he’s on a different continent and the time difference sucks.”

It still seems unfair to saddle Clint with all these responsibilities, but Phil also doesn’t know their entire story. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Be prepared for me to cry all over you again when your mom and I go pick up my parents’ ashes tomorrow?” Clint sounds bitter.

Phil has no response. Maybe Clint does need some time alone.

“Sorry.” Clint leans forward and reaches across the corner of the table until his fingers bump against Phil’s wrist. “Tomorrow will be a shitty day that I want to skip and go straight to Monday.”

Phil scoots his chair closer so he can reach Clint. Running a hand over his back, he says, “You are welcome to cry all over me.”

“I know,” Clint mumbles. “I’m tired of crying, too.”

“Then let’s do something today that is the opposite of that. If you want. We could go to the river again, or we could get ice cream, or we could finally give into my mom’s request to watch one of her favorite 90s rom-coms with her.”

“Or maybe all of those?”

Phil pulls Clint closer. “All of those is fine, too.”

**

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Phil asks the next day when his mom and Clint get ready to drive to the funeral home.

“Yes,” Clint replies. “We won’t be long anyway. Maybe an hour?”

Phil’s mom nods.

“I’ll be here when you get back.” What Phil really means is, _I’ll be here for you when you get back_ , but he thinks Clint understood that.

Once they have left, Phil paces for three minutes and then decides to go for a run. There isn’t anything he’d be able to focus on, and the run will give him some endorphins, at least for a little while.

Phil runs a loop around the neighborhood. The cold air feels good, and he tries not to think about anything but his feet hitting the sidewalk. During the last five minutes, he notices the strain he’s putting on his body. There’s a burn in his legs when he makes it back, and he spends a minute doubled over to catch his breath. Still, he feels more settled than before.

Phil is just getting out of the shower when he hears the garage door opening. He rushes through toweling off and putting on clothes. He jogs down the stairs to find his mom and Clint coming in the door.

Clint looks pale; he holds a small cardboard box close to his chest. He puts the box on the hallway table to free his hands to take off his shoes and fleece. Through the open top, Phil spots a bronze-colored urn. 

“Did everything go okay?” Phil asks.

Phil’s mom puts her coat in the hallway closet. “Yes, it was fine.” Pointing at the box, she asks Clint, “Do you want to find a place for this? I was thinking maybe the dining room, or if you want to take it upstairs, I’m sure Phil wouldn’t mind.”

Phil feels a little weird about the idea of having Clint’s parents’ ashes in his room, but if that’s what Clint wants, he’ll go along with it.

“I don’t know,” Clint says with a scratch in his voice. “I can’t look at it every day. I just can’t.” He presses a hand to his chest. “But I also don’t want to put it—put them—away in a closet somewhere.”

Phil’s mom steps closer to Clint. “I understand.” She puts one hand on his shoulder. “I may have a suggestion. Do you want me to show you?”

Clint nods. 

Phil’s mom leads them out onto the back porch. She gestures at the bench on which she keeps a variety of plants during the summer. “How about we rearrange this? I know most of the plants are wilted by now, but we could clear out the flower pots and get some evergreens. And we could put up a candle or two, or, Phil, do we still have those outdoor Christmas lights?”

“I think so.” Phil is seventy percent sure they are in the garage.

“We could put those up, too. What do think?”

Clint lets out a breath. “That—that would be—I’d like that, yeah.”

“Alright, then let’s get started.”

They work together to sweep dried leaves off the porch, wipe down the bench and all the flower pots, and weed out the wilted plants. They arrange the pots in a half circle and string the Christmas lights through them. 

Clint goes back inside and gets the urn. He places it at the center of the half-circle. 

“This is a sheltered corner,” Phil’s mom says. “The wind doesn’t hit it directly. Once the snow moves in, we can think about putting up a cover.”

Clint looks back at her. “Sounds good. Could I have a moment? Alone?”

“Of course.” She takes Phil by the shoulders and guides him back inside.

Once they are back in the kitchen, Phil starts pacing again.

His mom watches him for half a minute before she steps in his way. “Let’s do something more productive with that nervous energy. How about cookies?”

“I’m not nervous, I’m…” Phil doesn’t even know how to put the twisting inside of him into words.

His mom rubs her hands up and down his arms. “I know. You’re worried about him, and you probably want to go outside and be there with him.”

“Yeah.” 

“He’ll come to you. But there are also parts of this process that he needs to go through by himself.”

That makes sense to Phil intellectually, but it doesn’t help with the squirrely feelings in his gut.

“I know it’s hard. Come here.” She opens her arms and Phil is glad to hug her back. She holds him for a minute. “So, how about those cookies…”

Phil pulls back. “Let’s make Aunt Jane’s chocolate chip cookies. They’re the best.”

“Alright. You know where to find the recipe and I’ll start pulling out ingredients.”

They get to work. It’s been a while since Phil baked with his mom, and he enjoys hearing her read out ingredients that he gets to measure. It’s something he has done since he was little and it helps a lot today for reasons Phil can’t quite explain. 

Just when they put the cookies in the oven, Clint comes back inside. He looks like he doesn’t feel quite steady on his feet and his eyes have a watery sheen to them. He walks right up to Phil and slides one of his hands into Phil’s. “D’you mind if I go lie down in your bed for a while?”

Phil thinks, _Isn’t it our bed by now?_ “Of course not.” When Clint doesn’t pull away, he keeps their fingers locked together. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Not right now, but in a little while maybe?” 

“Sure. I’ll text you before I come up in case you fall asleep.”

Clint gives him a look of appreciation. “Thanks.” He lets go of Phil’s hand and walks out of the kitchen.

Phil looks after him. His mom comes up to Phil and rubs a hand between his shoulders. “Oh, honey. You care a lot about each other, don’t you?”

Phil nods.

“I wish this wasn’t all happening at once for you two, but go with what feels right.”

Phil nods again.

“And maybe remember that words exist and are useful when you use them.” She pats his back one more time before moving to the counter to rinse the bowl they used.

“I know. We do talk.” Phil thinks they’ve done pretty well in the talking department so far. 

“Good. Now come help me clean all this up.”

**

An hour later, Phil texts Clint. _Ready for the world’s best chocolate chip cookies?_

Five minutes later, Clint sends two emojis: a purple heart and a cookie.

Balancing a plate of cookies and a cup of coffee, Phil knocks on the mostly closed door of his room. 

“Come in!”

Phil pushes the door open and closed with his elbow. Clint sits cross-legged on the bed, curtains half-drawn, a box of Kleenex in his hands.

“Hey,” Phil says as he sits down, his thighs brushing up against Clint’s knees. 

Clint eyes the cookies. “Those look good.” 

“They are good. And I brought some coffee. I figured you might like that more than a glass of milk.”

Clint gives him a watery smile. “Good guess. I’ll take that first.” He cradles the cup in his hands and takes a sip. “Hmm.”

Phil is pleased that he got the sugar-milk ratio in the coffee right. He picks up a cookie. It’s still a little warm, and the chocolate chips are just the right degree of gooey.

Clint takes a cookie, too. He balances the coffee on his knee. “Wow, these are good.”

“Do you want to know the secret ingredient?” 

“Obviously.”

Phil smiles. “Instant vanilla pudding powder. It’s my aunt’s recipe, and even Jasper has admitted that it makes the cookies better.”

Clint licks chocolate off his fingers. “That’s high praise.”

Phil tears his eyes away from Clint’s tongue. “It is. Jasper doesn’t touch instant anything under normal circumstances.”

Clint takes another cookie. “These won’t last long.”

“We have about thirty of them, so they should last until Tuesday, maybe? I have to bring some for Jasper and Maria tomorrow. If they found out we made these cookies and they didn’t get any, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Hmm, I get why.” Clint finishes the cookie in another two bites.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”

Clint looks at Phil with some wariness. “Okay…” He sets the cup aside.

“Is there—are you not going to have a funeral for your parents?”

“Oh, um.” Clint picks up another cookie and weighs it in his hands. “Not now. Do you know how expensive a funeral is? And a burial plot at the cemetery?” Phil has no idea. “And also….I didn’t want to bury them here when I have no idea where I might end up.”

“That makes sense.” 

“Maybe we’ll do a memorial service or something when Barney’s back. Probably in Waverly because they knew more people there. I dunno.” Clint takes a small bite of his cookie.

Phil weighs a few answers like, _That sounds like a nice idea_ or _I’m sure they would have appreciated that_ , but they all sound trite and he dismisses them. “No need to decide now.”

“Just a hundred other things left.”

“I’ll help if I can.”

“You can promise to make these cookies again.” Clint’s expression brightens a little.

“That’s a promise I’m happy to make and keep. For now…do you want to be alone some more, or do you want to watch something together?”

“Let’s watch something.”

They both know that what they really mean is ‘let’s cuddle under a blanket while we also watch something.’

Clint pulls up the show they’ve been watching on Phil’s laptop while Phil rearranges the pillows so they can lean against them. Phil is surprised when Clint tugs him against his side—he expected that Clint would want to be held. But he has no objections.

When the credits come on, Clint gently tugs on a few strands of hair on the back of Phil’s neck. “You know you have these little curls right here?”

Phil suppresses a shiver. “That means I need a haircut. How did you even notice that?”

“I notice a lot of things.”

Fortunately Clint can’t see the blush that’s rising on Phil’s cheeks. “Uh-huh.”

Clint runs his thumb along Phil’s hairline. “Maybe put off that haircut.”

“I’ll consider that.” If it means that Clint will keep doing this, he’ll put off that haircut for a month. Who knew that you could get that much pleasure out of having your neck touched?

Clint makes a pleased hum, and Phil misses the majority of that episode’s plot.


	9. Early Decision

_Early decision deadline!_ is the first thing that blares through Phil’s mind when he wakes up on Monday. Four days until Thursday. Four days to finish the applications that have been at the back of Phil’s mind for the last three years.

“That was a very loud sigh,” Clint says. “You normally don’t mind Mondays.”

Phil didn’t even notice the sigh. “Early decision applications are due for a bunch of schools on November 1, and Jasper and Maria and I made a pact to just submit all our applications on October 31 to get it over with.”

“Are you doing early decision?”

Phil’s heart beats faster. “Yes, for Brown.”

“Wow. That’s a fancy school.”

“It’s a reach, but you have a slightly better chance with early decision. We’re all applying to our dream schools for early decision.” Phil’s to-do list appears in his mind. Double-check that all letters of recommendation are in. Transcripts uploaded. All special sections for each school done. 

“Good luck. I’m sure you’ll get into a bunch of awesome schools.”

“Thank you,” Phil mumbles. 

Only later, when they’re on their way to school, does Phil realize he never asked Clint where he plans to apply. The applications have loomed so large in Phil’s mind for so long that they have a tendency to drown out everything else, but that’s not an excuse. He should have asked Clint. Maybe they’re even applying to some of the same colleges.

**

“So, is everyone ready for this week?” Jasper asks over lunch. “T-minus four days until NYU is lucky enough to receive my application. And some other schools, but let’s be real: NYU is the only one that counts.”

“Yes, yes, we know.” Maria swirls her mashed potatoes into her peas. “I’m ready. One last read-through on Thursday. Phil?”

“Same. More or less.” He’s still not happy with two of the answers to Brown’s application questions.

“Don’t forget: 8pm my house on Thursday for the Ultimate College Application Party. Barton, you’re welcome to come as well.”

“It’s not really a party,” Phil clarifies. “We’re getting together for one last round of revisions and then we’re submitting everything on the Common App. But you are more than welcome to join us.”

“Oh, um. I don’t know,” Clint says.

“Are you doing early decision?” Maria asks.

Clint shifts in his seat. “No. I’m not applying anywhere this year. Too much else going on.”

At first, Phil is surprised. Clint has stellar grades, after all, and has a genuine interest in learning. But considering everything that has happened recently, it makes sense that college applications aren’t a high priority at the moment.

“That’s cool,” Jasper says. “It’s better to go when you’re ready. My cousin put off college for two years and she had an awesome time when she finally went.”

Clint nods. “So, where are you applying? Phil said you all are doing early decision for your favorites.”

“NYU, obviously,” Jasper replies.

“Mount Holyoke,” Maria says.

“Brown, like I already told you. And we’re all applying to Madison.” Phil knows that Madison is a safety school for the others, but he’s always liked the idea of going there. Maybe it’s because his parents met there, but it’s a great school, and he’d probably get a scholarship. 

“Any school would be lucky to have you,” Clint says.

Maria smiles at him. “Same goes for you. If you ever want to talk college, we have all done insane amounts of research. You should see Phil’s spreadsheets.”

“You have spreadsheets?” Clint asks.

“That’s perfectly normal.” At least Phil thinks so. “I like to be organized.”

“You can show me your spreadsheets any time,” Clint says with a wink.

Maria hides her smile behind a forkful of pea-potato mash and Jasper claps Phil on the shoulder. “Hmm, sexy spreadsheets.”

“You are all the worst,” Phil huffs. He’s not really upset; he knows that both Jasper and Maria have their own elaborate system of college-related notes. “And for the record, my spreadsheets are super sexy, and yes, Clint, we can take a long and hard look at them at any time.”

Jasper and Maria burst out laughing, but Clint fixes Phil with a gaze that has heat in it.

**

When Clint and Phil are doing homework after dinner, Phil’s thoughts circle back to college. He waits until Clint takes a break from typing. “I was thinking about what you said about not applying anywhere this year…there’s still some time until regular applications are due in January, and some local schools have even later deadlines. And all joking aside, I do have those spreadsheets.”

Clint looks up from the laptop. “Thanks, but, look, the thing is…” He pauses. “I’m not going to college. Definitely not this year. Probably never.”

“Really?”

Clint takes a moment before he answers. “I get that this is hard to wrap your mind around when you’ve probably heard about college all your life. It was never even a question that you’d go, right?

Phil nods.

“Right. But for me, college was always something that other people did. People with money. But not my family. And I know there are ways to go to college without having a lot of money. Hell, some of the fancy schools probably want some poor kids like me.” Then he adds, “You have to understand…I’m still stuck on how there’s always food in the fridge when I open it. And your mom shops at the nice grocery store, and she buys strawberries in October when they must cost a fortune. Just wrapping my mind around that is a lot, even if I don’t say anything about it. So college for me is kind of like going to the moon. Sure, people have gone to the moon, but you know that you won’t be able to.”

Phil turns Clint’s words over in his head. He once again has to face the hard truth that he may know that Clint grew up with little money, but that he doesn’t fully understand what that means. “You’re right, college has always been something that I knew I’d do, and so would everyone else around me. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. And the thing is…if I had all the money in the world, of course I’d want to go to college. But I don’t, so.” 

There are many things Phil could point out, like how many schools now have need-blind admissions, or have substituted all loans with grants, so that even if you can’t pay any of the tuition, you won’t be settled with a ton of debt. But Phil has an inkling that mentioning these things doesn’t help Clint, at least not right now. “I promise not to bring it up again. I’ll shut up about my applications, too.”

“Phil, what, no, that’s not what I meant. I want to hear all about your applications. Just because college isn’t in the cards for me doesn’t mean that I’m upset about you going.”

“You may regret that when I start talking about what I can contribute to Brown’s open curriculum in my sleep.”

Clint laughs. “I can always distract you.”

Phil has no doubts about that.

**

When Clint tip-toes into Phil’s room at 11:30pm on Wednesday, Phil comes out of an application-induced haze. The last time he checked the time it was 8:45pm. His back hurts from sitting hunched over his desk for so long.

“You’re still up,” Clint says. He bends down to look over Phil’s shoulder and loops his arms around Phil’s chest. “Still on those statements, huh?”

“Yeah.” He takes a sniff. “Were you on fryer duty again?”

“Yes, and I will take a shower, no worries. Close that computer and go to bed.”

Phil is tempted to plead “just five more minutes,” but he knows that Clint is right. He saves his latest draft, changes into his PJs, and gets into bed. 

He’s still staring at the ceiling when Clint joins him. 

Clint takes one look at Phil. “Okay, you’re never going to go to sleep when you’re this wound up. Your tossing and turning kept me up half the night yesterday. Turn onto your stomach.”

Guilt slams into Phil. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

“Because I get why you were restless and I eventually fell asleep. C’mon, turn.” 

Phil turns over, and he fluffs the pillow until it feels just right under his cheek. Clint lies down next to him, head propped up on one arm. His other hand settles low on Phil’s back. “This is something that my mom used to do for me when I was little and I woke up from a bad dream, or when I was upset.” His fingers start drawing circles across Phil’s back. “It always helped me.”

It feels good; Phil remembers that Clint did this once before, but it’s more intentional now. His eyes close.

After a minute, Clint’s fingers return to Phil’s lower back and trace the hem of his T-shirt. “Is it okay if I put my hand under your shirt?”

Heat zips through Phil. He isn’t sure if having Clint’s hand on his skin will make him sleepy, but he nods nevertheless. He’d be lying to himself if he pretended that he doesn’t want Clint to touch him.

Clint’s fingers dip under Phil’s shirt in a wide arc, and it feels a hundred percent better than before. At first, Phil has to try not to squirm from the pleasure, but the longer Clint keeps drawing circles and lines, the more Phil drifts into a state of contentedness. His mind goes blank, and his awareness becomes fuzzy. It barely registers when Clint stops.

“My arm’s getting tired,” Clint whispers from much closer than Phil expected. He must be lying down right next to Phil. His forearm is a line of warmth across Phil’s back and his hand lies flat between Phil's shoulder blades.

“’s okay, thanks,” Phil mumbles. Then, out of nowhere, more words tumble out of his mouth. “I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.” Clint’s smile is easy to hear.

**

During their free period on Thursday morning, Phil and Clint retreat to their usual library table to work. Clint pulls out _Frankenstein_ to make headway on the upcoming chapters, and Phil looks at his personal statement. Again. He can’t help himself.

“If you want a fresh pair of eyes on it, I could read it?” Clint offers.

“Would you? At this point, I probably can’t even see the most glaring typo.” Phil is so glad that today is the last day of this torture.

“Sure.” Clint pulls the laptop closer and starts reading. 

Phil glances at him every so often, but Clint’s expression doesn’t give anything away. 

“Okay, no glaring typos,” Clint begins. “I’m not sure about this comma,” he points at the screen. “I think it can go either way.”

Phil sighs. “I’ve been going back and forth about it, too.”

“They’re not going to reject you based on one comma, so leave it. The rest is written well and really polished. Definitely conforms to the outline that Mrs. Lassiter gave us.”

“But?” There is definitely a ‘but.’

Clint gives him a warm look. “Yes, there’s a but. It’s a very good essay, but there’s so little of you in it. You’re an amazing person, and I can hardly see any of that in here.”

Phil ducks his head. As wonderful as it is to hear that Clint finds him amazing, it also worries Phil that his essay may sound dry and boring. “I was trying to make it sound mature. And smart, but not sappy.”

“I get that. But whoever reads this wants to know who you are and how you’re going to fit in with all the other people they are considering. They can see that you’re smart and have done a lot of impressive stuff from your transcript and so on, so don’t worry about that. Just add a few things here and there that make this essay sound more like a story about you.”

“I’m not sure how to do that.” Phil has always prided himself on writing essays that stay on topic and convey the necessary information.

“I can make some suggestions. I’m not rewriting this essay for you—“

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

Clint smiles. “Alright. Good. I’ll make some notes and then you can take it from there.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Clint concentrates on Phil’s essay, and Phil covertly watches Clint. Phil didn’t think it was possible to develop even more feelings for Clint, but seeing him take such care with Phil’s words, and showing such earnest investment in wanting to make sure Phil has the best shot with this essay, is nearly overwhelming. 

Clint pushes the laptop over to Phil. “Here you go. Let me know if I should clarify anything.”

“Thanks.” Phil starts reading and immediately sees what Clint meant earlier—the notes all include prompts about what to insert and why. “These are all wonderful.”

“Glad I could help.”

Phil keeps looking at Clint and tries to come up with a better way to express his gratitude than a simple “thank you.”

“Is there anything else?” Clint asks, amused.

“No, just…” Phil leans over and pulls Clint into an awkward hug across the arms of their chairs.

“You got this,” Clint whispers, resting one hand gently on Phil’s nape.

Phil decides he can have a minute to hide away and soak up the comfort he gets from Clint’s touch. It reminds him of earlier that morning, when Clint held him for the fifteen minutes they had between the first and second alarm.

Phil straightens slowly. “Okay. Let’s do this.” 

**

“Mini-donuts for Phil.” Jasper places a plate on the table. “I sourced these from a food truck in Madison that is only doing a soft opening on weekends at the moment, but they made an exception for me. Vanilla and chocolate, with real Tahitian vanilla beans and ethically sourced seventy percent dark chocolate.”

Phil takes a bite. “Wow. These are a step above the ones I usually get.” 

“The really terrible pre-packaged ones? I would hope so.” Jasper slides a tray over to Maria. “An assortment of international candy. The Swedish fish are actually from Sweden. The liquorish might make your eyes water.”

Maria surveys the various glass bowls with glee. “Bring it on.”

“I hope you got something for yourself, too,” Phil says. How is he already on his second donut?

“Obviously.” Jasper lifts up an impressively sized tin of popcorn from the chair next to him. “Four flavors in a range from spicy to sweet. And yes, I’m happy to let you have samples.”

Phil looks at the spread on the table. In addition to the personalized snacks for each of them, Jasper has set out all kinds of other treats, ranging from M&Ms to cut-up fruit. “Thanks for putting this together. It’ll make this last push easier.” Maria nods along.

Jasper waves them off. “And to get started…” He hits a button on his phone and “The Final Countdown” begins playing from the surround speakers. 

Phil smiles, remembering that Jasper played the same song for their final SAT study session. Maria high-fives Jasper. They all bounce to the music as they set up their checklists and pull up documents on their laptops. The song segues into something acoustic and low-key. Phil has no doubt that Jasper put together the perfect playlist for the next three hours.

They work quietly for a while and then start trading final versions of personal statements and school-specific essays. 

“Huh, this is different,” Maria observes as she reads Phil’s statement. “This actually sounds like you.”

“What? Let me see.” Jasper leans closer to her.

“I made some adjustments based on Clint’s suggestions.”

Jasper and Maria both making cooing noises that have Phil squirm in his seat. “Oh, stop it.”

Maria looks at him. “You and Clint are good together.”

“We’re not—”

Maria gives him a much more pointed look. “Are you sure about that?”

“We haven’t said anything to each other about…” Phil makes a vague gesture. “Anything.”

“Hmm.”

“They’ll figure it out,” Jasper cuts in. “Getting back to the much more pressing topic of our collective future, I have to agree.” He looks at Phil. “I can see you in this essay now much more than before. The previous draft was good, but this is really good.”

“Thanks.” Phil will have to pass the praise on to Clint.

When it’s his turn to read his friends’ essays, he marvels at the moving answers Maria wrote for Mount Holyoke—so much more personal than what she’d usually share—and the direct and competent answers with a hint of snark that Jasper composed for NYU, which strike Phil as exactly right for that school.

They double and triple-check everything, taking the same degree of care for their dream schools as for their safety options. 

Just before 11pm, they are ready to start submitting everything. By 11:23pm, they hit the final submit button.

They look at each other in stunned silence before Maria bursts out, “Holy shit, we all just applied to college.”

Phil woops and then slumps in his seat because holy shit indeed. Jasper sends “We are the Champions” through the speakers and dances around the room. Maria holds out her hand to Phil, which he is only too happy to take. They look at each other and start laughing. 

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Phil says. 

“The wait is going to kill me.” 

“Hey, Model UN season is coming up and I bet it’ll distract you.”

Maria makes a face. “Ugh, way to ruin the buzz I have going.” She keeps smiling, though.

“Group hug!” Jasper announces and pulls them out of their chairs. They fall into each other’s arms and hold on for a good minute. Phil’s heart overflows with the love he has for his friends.

**

As Phil pulls into the driveway just after midnight, he is surprised to see lights on in the living room.

He finds Clint on the couch reading a Captain America trade. 

“Hey, how did it go?” Clint asks.

“All done!” Giddy relief rushes through Phil once again. He flops down next to Clint. “Were you waiting up for me?”

Clint puts the comic aside. “Maybe? I wanted to hear about your application party, and I knew that if I went to bed, I’d fall asleep. And that you wouldn’t wake me up because you’re polite like that.”

Phil is touched that Clint stayed up so they could talk after he got home. “It all went smoothly. Jasper got special snacks for each of us. Mine were these amazing ‘artisanal’,” he makes air-quotes around that word, “donuts. I brought you some.” He points at the paper bag he left on the hallway table. “We did some final revisions, uploaded everything to the Common App, and submitted.” It still feels unreal to be done with college applications.

Clint regards him with fondness. “Congrats. I'm sure you get in everywhere.”

“Thanks. I doubt that, but I should have some options.” Phil wiggles closer to Clint so he can rest his head against Clint’s shoulder. “What about you? Did you have fun handing out candy with my mom?”

Clint shifts until Phil slots comfortably against his side. “We almost ran out! So many kids came. It was great. There was a little Captain America—I think your mom took a picture because she knew him and his dad.”

“Oh, I bet it was Trevor.”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Anyway, I had a good time. I’ve only gone trick-or-treating, but never been the one to hand out the goods.”

“I love seeing kids getting excited when the bowl of candy comes out.” Phil slings an arm around Clint’s waist. He can feel the adrenaline high dissipate and the exhaustion of the last few days kick in. “Sometimes my mom and I take a walk around the neighborhood late at night to see all the decorations.”

“We did that, too.” Quietly, he adds, “It was really nice. Your mom told me about who lives in each house, and who always goes all out with decorating for the holidays.”

Phil pictures his mom and Clint wandering along the streets that are so familiar to him. He can almost hear his mom’s voice narrating the history of the neighborhood. “I’m glad you had a good evening.” Phil felt a little guilty for making such a spectacle out of college applications, but it seems like his worries were unfounded. “Do you want to go to bed? I’m fading fast.”

“Sure.” Clint stands and stretches his arms over his head, which is a most appealing sight. “Ugh, I don’t wanna get up early tomorrow. At least it’s Friday.”

Phil couldn’t agree more. He walks toward the stairs. Just before he sets foot on the first step, Clint grasps his wrist and reels him in. They end up close together, bodies nearly touching, and Clint holds Phil in place with a hand on his back.

“Trick or treat?” Clint asks, a slight smile on his face.

Phil has no idea where this is going. “Treat.”

Clint’s smile widens. He slowly leans closer, tilts his head, and—

 _Oh_.

Clint’s lips brush lightly against Phil’s, and when Phil doesn’t pull away, Clint kisses him with more intent, but keeps it brief.

Phil swallows. “Why now?”

“Just felt right. Was that okay?” Sudden uncertainty flashes through Clint’s eyes.

Phil nods eagerly. “Yes. Totally okay. Can we…again?”

Clint leans closer, and this time, he pulls Phil flush against him. Phil blindly grasps for Clint’s shoulders, fingers digging in as the kiss goes on because Clint knows what he’s doing—thank god—and sparks fly through Phil. 

Clint pulls back. “Maybe we should take this upstairs.”

“Absolutely.” 

They make their way to Phil’s room as quickly and quietly as they can.

“Let’s get ready for bed first,” Phil suggests. He doesn’t want to think about how he still needs to brush his teeth and wash his contacts while he’s exploring this new side of their relationship.

“Good call. I’ll go first.” Clint gets his pajamas and heads to the bathroom.

Phil paces around the room clutching his PJs, feeling like a live wire. All the adrenaline from earlier is back, but for entirely different reasons. 

When Clint returns, Phil hastens to the bathroom and makes it through his routine in record time. Back in his room, he pauses after he’s closed the door behind him. He’s seen Clint in his bed countless times, but it feels different now.

Phil crosses the room, pulls the curtains closed behind him, takes off his glasses, and slides under the comforter. He leaves the light on.

As soon as Phil lies down, Clint leans over him. He pauses, perhaps waiting for a signal from Phil, so Phil curls his hand around the back of Clint’s neck and pulls him in so they can get back to the kissing.

Turns out, kissing while lying down is even better than standing up. Especially when Clint moves half his body on top of Phil and one of his legs slides between Phil’s. Clint’s thigh puts pressure on all the right places. 

Clint smiles into the kiss as Phil pushes up against him. He pulls away just far enough to say, “You’re so gorgeous,” which Phil finds utterly confusing, but then Clint’s lips tease along his neck and Phil’s eyes roll back into his head.

When they kiss again, Clint introduces his tongue into the mix, and Phil slides his hand under Clint’s shirt so he can touch the soft skin at the dip low on Clint’s back, and Phil has never been this hard in his life. He knows—can feel—that Clint is in the same boat, and it only stokes his want. 

He whines when Clint pulls away.

“Thought we might want to hit the pause button,” Clint explains. At least he doesn’t move; he props his head up right next to Phil’s shoulder and looks down at him with adoration.

Phil blinks up at him. What are words?

“I was getting really close and wanted to see if you want to keep going and get off together, or not. Fuck, I only meant to kiss you tonight, but…” He laughs. “I should have known.”

Phil is still impressed at Clint’s ability to form entire sentences. “Uhh. I—I don’t know?”

“Okay, then maybe we should leave it at this.” Clint brings his hand up to Phil’s face and traces along his cheek and down his neck. It makes Phil shiver. “Sorry, I can stop.”

“No. Don’t.” 

“Okay.” Clint runs a finger along the collar of Phil’s T-shirt. “Sometimes I sit in class and when you wear a shirt, there’s just this hint of skin right here,” Clint’s thumb smooths over Phil’s throat. “And I can’t stop thinking what it would be like to kiss you there.”

Phil sucks in a breath.

“Like this,” Clint whispers and presses the softest kiss to Phil’s skin.

“The first time I see you with your shirt off, I’ll probably come on the spot,” Phil blurts out.

“What?” Clint snorts. “I can take my shirt off right now.”

“No! I mean, I want you to, but maybe not right now. I—this is a lot.” 

Clint’s expression turns serious. “Is it too much?” He searches Phil’s eyes. “I get flirty when I know someone likes me back.”

“I’m not—I’m not used to that,” Phil admits. “I haven’t really done much in terms of all—all of this.”

“That’s cool,” Clint says. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“Okay.” Now that the lust is receding from Phil’s brain, he can get back to one of Clint’s earlier questions. “I want to take it slow, so thanks for hitting the pause button.”

“D’you want to try to go to sleep?”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Phil replies.

Clint reaches up to switches off the light. The movement repositions their bodies so that they’re no longer pressed together. 

“Don’t go too far,” Phil whispers. 

“Never.”

Clint turns on his side, and Phil mirrors his pose. Their arms and legs tangle loosely. It’s comfortable and familiar, bringing Phil back to more stable ground. He turns his attention to Clint’s steady breathing and begins to drift.


	10. Explorations

“So, what’s up?” Maria asks before taking a bite of her pizza.

They’re sitting under a heat lamp on Antonio’s patio. Phil didn’t want to have this conversation in the cafeteria. He’s never been this glad that Clint and Jasper decided to do some last-minute cramming for their post-lunch Spanish test. “Clint kissed me last night.”

Maria gives him a friendly punch. “That’s awesome! Congrats. About time.”

Phil picks a few stray mushrooms off his slice. “Thanks. We kissed, and then we made out, and things got a little heated.”

Maria waggles her eyebrows.

“Not that heated. But let’s just say that any doubt I may have had about just how attracted I am to Clint evaporated. And it was really good, but also happened really fast, and…” Phil shrugs. 

“Sounds like you need to talk to him.”

“Is that stupid?”

“No, of course not.” 

Phil scratches the peeling edge of a sticker on his water bottle. “It just seems that everyone always hooks up and it’s no big deal.” He briefly looks up at her. “You have, too.”

“Okay, first of all: what happens at Model UN stays at Model UN. Mostly. And second, I’m not you. You have to do what feels right to you.” She sounds adamant.

“I know. And it’s not that I don’t want him. But maybe one step at a time.”

“Then tell him that.” Maria wipes her mouth with a napkin. “How do you think Clint feels about all this?”

Phil takes a moment to finish chewing. “I think he has a lot more experience with, you know.”

“Sex.”

“Right. All of it.”

“Has he told you that?”

“Indirectly.” Phil drinks some water. “When we first met, he dropped some hints that he’s been with a few guys.”

Maria eyes him with stern kindness. “You two really need to talk.”

“Yes. But ugh.” Phil rubs his eyes. 

“You’re good with words. You’ll figure it out.” She pats the back of Phil’s hand. “And then you can tell me at movie night how it went.”

Phil would prefer to take a few days to mull over what to say, but he knows that when the opportunity for more making out presents itself, he’ll take it, and that he should have this conversation with Clint before then. “I will. Maybe bring some ice cream just in case it doesn’t go so well.”

Maria looks at him with incredulity. “He adores you. _Adores_. Completely. You’ll be fine.”

Phil hides his smile by eating more pizza. “We’ll see.”

**

“Do you mind if I drive?” Clint asks as they walk toward the truck after History.

The question surprises Phil. “You drive?”

“Sure do. I haven’t had the chance in a while and I kinda miss it. Even got my Wisconsin license all sorted out.”

Phil is maybe a touch over-invested in his truck, so he hesitates.

“But if you don’t want me to, then that’s fine.”

It’s such a small request and Clint almost never asks for something he wants. “I don’t mind.” Phil hands over the keys.

A wide smile spreads over Clint’s face. “Thanks. I promise I’m a good driver.”

Clint didn’t exaggerate. He has a handle on the truck almost right away—it can be a little temperamental—and he’s good about really stopping at all stop signs and keeping a close eye on the traffic around him.

“Thanks for trusting me with your baby,” Clint says after they’ve pulled into the garage.

“Thanks for doing a good job getting us home.” They get out and walk to the backdoor. “Let me know if you ever want to borrow the truck.”

“If I could take it to get to work sometimes, that’d be awesome.”

Phil has offered to drive Clint almost every time, but he often declines and says the bus is perfectly fine. “Of course. I can ask my mom if she needs to put you on the insurance. I don’t really know how it works.”

“I’ll talk to her and we can figure it out.” Clint halts on the porch. Eyes on his parents’ makeshift memorial, he says, “I’ll stay out here for a bit.” 

Phil nods. “I was going to make some coffee. Do you want some, too?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

Phil leans close to kiss Clint’s cheek. It’s spontaneous, without much thought. Clint’s _Just felt right_ from last night echoes through his mind. “I’ll see you inside.”

Smiling warmly, Clint replies, “I won’t be long.”

**

Phil pours the coffee for Clint in a travel mug, just in case he stays on the porch longer than a few minutes. Phil takes the mug into the living room along with his own coffee and settles on the couch. They have an hour before his mom gets home and Phil would rather talk to Clint when it’s just the two of them.

He catches up on emails until Clint shows up. Phil searches his face for any sign of sadness, but finds none. He looks fine.

“Aww, you made sure that my coffee would keep warm.” Clint picks up the mug and sits down, fitting himself into Phil’s personal space without hesitation.

Clint’s continued ease brushes away any fleeting doubt Phil had about whether the easy affection between them would feel awkward or charged now that they have kissed. “I know you’d heat it up in the microwave, but this is a far better option.” 

“Eh, the microwave does a fine job.” Clint laughs. “Oh, your face! Okay, I’ll try not to commit further crimes against coffee in your presence.”

“Your taste buds will thank me for it,” Phil teases.

For a minute, they sit quietly together. Clint drinks his coffee and Phil enjoys being close to Clint, as he always does.

“Hey, do you wanna watch something?” Clint asks.

Here we go. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk. About us.”

Clint shifts to have a better view of Phil. “Oh? Should I be nervous?” His tone is light, but his eyes show concern.

“No,” Phil says immediately. “It’s nothing bad. I just thought…because of last night. Which was great. And I definitely want to do that again. And more. But also, maybe we should also see where we’re at with all that.” Those were a lot of words, and none of them were great. Phil cringes.

Clint tilts his head. “Okay, try that again? Just tell me straight up.”

Easier said than done. “A while back you said that, well, that you’ve been with a few guys and…” Phil looks down at his hands. “I haven’t. I’ve had a few kisses at parties—” Calling debate camp a party is probably an exaggeration, but Phil already feels lame enough admitting this. “And that’s it. Nothing beyond that.”

Clint takes his hand. “That’s fine. I don’t care.”

“I know, but I do.” Phil takes a deep breath. “You’ve had sex, right?”

“Yeah…that’s a pretty broad spectrum, you know.”

Clint’s voice is kind, but it makes Phil frustrated nonetheless. “Yes, I know, but—”

“You meant sex as in fucking.”

Phil wouldn’t have put it that bluntly, maybe. “Yeah.”

“Right.” Clint tugs at Phil’s hand. Softly, he says, “Look at me.” Phil looks up. “So, yes, I’ve fucked people. Couple girls, but mostly guys. When I’m with a guy, I usually bottom. It’s just what I like. Also, handjobs, blowjobs, all of that.”

Hearing this list is intimidating. “Wow.”

“I know that sounds like a lot, and maybe it is. But do you know what I’ve never done? I’ve never done any of that with someone I really like. Someone I feel really close to. Like I do with you.”

Phil’s heart is hammering in his chest. “You do?”

It’s plain to see in Clint’s eyes that he does, but it’s nice to see him nod anyway. “Whatever we end up doing together, it’ll be new for me as well. And trust me, it’s good if at least one person knows what they’re doing. It makes things a lot easier. Especially the fucking.”

That makes sense. “Good point.” Phil feels a little better now. “You’ve never dated anyone before?”

Clint slouches down against the back of couch, looking up at Phil. “Not really. I wouldn’t call regular hook-ups dating. Especially if the person doesn’t give you the time of day when they see you at school. And before you ask why I’d even put up with that, it was because he was hot and the sex was good, and at that school, it was honestly the best I could hope for.”

“I’m sorry. That sucks.”

“Yeah, well. It’s in the past now.” 

Phil relaxes into the couch. “What about us, at school?”

“I’d rather be open about it. Not that I’m going to make out with you in front of everyone, but I don’t want to have to second-guess myself every time I touch you, or want to kiss you in the parking lot.”

“Same.” There’s no question about it in Phil’s mind, and he didn’t realize he felt this strongly about it until now. But there’s no way he’s going to hide his relationship with Clint.

“I know you said that people at school are better with tolerance than acceptance, so I understand if you have some reservations. You’ve known these people for a lot longer than I have.”

“Nope. If anyone has a problem with us, they can go fuck themselves.”

Clint smiles. “Oh, strong words, I like it.” He reaches for Phil. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

Phil meets him half-way. It’s easy to let go and let Clint take the lead. He barely notices that his hand finds a way into Clint’s hair or that he half-crawls into Clint’s lap. 

“Okay, okay, let’s just…” Clint laughs. 

“Sorry?” Phil drops his head against Clint’s chest.

“Oh, no apologies necessary. I was just thinking of the whole taking it slow thing.”

“Maybe I need to amend that.” Phil pulls back so he can look at Clint. “I want to get off with you. I don’t want one of us to step on the brake when things get good.”

“We can, though. Really.” Clint sounds utterly sincere.

“And in certain moments that’ll be good. But I also want—fuck, I want you, okay? I do.” Clint makes a strangled noise. “Yeah, exactly. I’m going to need some time to work up to the--the fucking part, but everything else…is fair game. If that works for you.”

“It more than works for me.” Clint leans in for another long kiss. “As nice as this is, I’m pretty sure your mom will be home soon, and maybe she shouldn’t find us three seconds away from coming when she doesn’t even know this is happening.”

Phil couldn’t agree more. “Yeah, about that—I want to tell her.”

“Of course. I want her to know, too.” Clint frowns. “Do you think she’s going to make me sleep on the couch?”

“No way. Really. She probably thinks we’ve been together for weeks. Um, that’s what we are now, right?”

Clint rolls his eyes. “Duh.”

“Just making sure.” Phil leans forward and picks up the remote. “Okay, let’s watch something so I don’t jump your bones again.”

Clint snorts, but settles in next to Phil.

**

Jasper and Maria arrive just after six for movie night, bringing along the usual pizza. Jasper also carries two big bags and a mini-cooler.

“Leftover snacks from yesterday,” he announces. “And we never made it to the ice cream, so I brought that as well.”

Phil and Maria exchange a look.

Once they have spread out all the food and plates, Phil clears his throat. “Clint and I—“ he holds his hand out and Clint steps closer and slides his hand into Phil’s. “We’re officially dating.” 

Jasper’s excited “About damn time” mingles with Maria’s “Congratulations” and then Maria pulls both Phil and Clint into a hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she says before letting go.

Clint mumbles “Thank you” while Phil soaks up his friends’ support. Not that he expected anything else. It’s still nice, though.

They spend a good half an hour digging into the food that is spread out all over the living room before starting _Independence Day_.

Clint curls into Phil’s side from the very start of the film. About fifteen minutes into the movie, Phil notices Maria glancing into his direction a few times. He looks back at her and beckons her closer.

She looks at Clint and then at Phil. 

Phil holds out his hand and nods for emphasis. Clint isn’t going to care; Phil is sure of that. Maria slides across the couch and cautiously leans against Phil. He brings an arm around her, and Clint shifts so Phil can lean against him. After a minute, they all find a way to sit comfortably together.

Phil can’t hold back a smile because this? This is perfect.

** 

After the movie, Jasper opens the ice cream and begins a detailed explanation of each flavor and the company that makes them. When Clint slowly samples each flavor and starts debating best combinations with Jasper, Maria grabs two plates and gestures at Phil to follow her. Phil gathers the remaining plates and silverware and follows her into the kitchen.

“So, I take it that your talk with Clint went well?” She asks, lowering the plates into the sink. 

“It did. We talked about everything.” Phil adds his plates and lets water run over them. “His experience is vast and varied, so that was a little intimidating at first, but we talked it through, and I think we’re in a good place now.” He can’t help but smile.

“I’m glad. Just go with what feels good, like I said before.”

“That’s more or less what we settled on.” Phil steps closer to Maria. “About earlier…me being with Clint isn’t going to change anything between us. You’re still my best friend, and I always want to cuddle with you during movie night.”

Maria pulls Phil into a hug and holds on tight. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Phil brushes a hand over her hair. “I’d expect nothing less.”

**

When they are ready to go to bed that evening, Clint picks up his PJs and says, “I’m just going to change in here, okay? Now that we’re together and all. And besides, it’s really not that exciting to see me in my boxers.”

If Clint only knew. “Uh, sure, yeah, that’s fine with me.”

Phil sits on the bed and pulls out his phone. He hears clothes rustling and keeps his eyes very firmly on the screen.

“Phil,” Clint says, amused. “It’s okay if you look.”

Phil lifts his head and grants himself a brief scan of Clint’s body. Even though he doesn’t let his eyes linger, he notices the defined muscles of Clint’s arms and shoulders, the inviting plane of his chest, and the strength in his thighs.

Phil tears his gaze away because he’s getting hard and that won’t do. He can feel his cheeks burning.

Footsteps come closer. Clint kneels on the floor and props his arms up on the bed. Still shirtless. “Hey.”

Phil slowly looks at Clint. 

“You really think I’m…”

“Brain-meltingly hot?” Phil asks. “Yes.”

Clint ducks his head. “Oh.”

How can Clint not know that? Since Phil is only human, he runs a hand up Clint’s arm, feeling muscles shift under his palm. He traces the curve of Clint’s shoulder and pushes his thumb into the hollow of his collar bone.

Clint looks up at Phil with awe and desire, then pushes himself up on his knees to haul Phil close. Phil uncrosses his legs and lets them dangle over the edge of the bed on either side of Clint’s body.

Their lips meet in a messy kiss. Clint opens his mouth and Phil groans—yes, please, more of that, just more—and while Clint’s hands stay on Phil’s hips at first, they slowly slide down over Phil’s thighs. It feels amazing and torturous. Phil’s hands are roaming over Clint’s back, committing muscle and bone to memory.

Phil pulls way when he starts to be out of breath. His cock presses up against the seam of his jeans and he has to laugh. “I told you so.”

“What?”

Phil gestures at his crotch.

Clint looks. With a sly smile, he asks, “D’you want me to suck you off?”

Phil falls back on the bed with another groan.

“Is that a yes or a no?” Clint asks, leaning over Phil, which puts more amazing, confusing pressure on the lower half of his body.

“No. Not right now.”

Clint moves away and stands. There’s a bulge in his boxers, but he doesn’t seem to care. He pulls on PJ pants and a T-shirt and sits on the bed. “No one’s ever reacted to me like that.” He sounds shy. “I never really thought…” He shrugs. “I mean, I know I’m not half-bad to look at, but—“

“You’re stunning,” Phil interrupts.

Clint bites his lip.

“Come here,” Phil murmurs and tugs on Clint’s arm. 

They kiss again, but it’s much slower and sweeter this time.

“Okay, my turn,” Phil says and gets off the bed.

Clint doesn’t look at Phil as he changes, but it doesn’t feel like a purposeful avoidance. At first, he’s busy digging his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, which are in a heap on the floor next to the bed, and then he frowns at something he’s reading.

Phil has his arms in his T-shirt and is just about to pull it over his head when Clint glances at him and asks, “Hey, could I borrow your truck tomorrow morning? It’s supposed to pour.”

“Sure.” Phil finishes putting on his T-shirt. “Your shift starts at eight, right?”

Clint sighs. “Yes.”

“My keys are on the hallway table. Just take all of them. I’m not going anywhere tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll go brush my teeth.”

Phil takes long enough in the bathroom that all traces of arousal have dissipated. He considers jerking off, but in the end cannot be bothered. What he wants most right now is to fall asleep with Clint like they usually do.

Phil burrows into the comforter while Clint is in the bathroom.

When he returns, Clint looks at Phil with fondness. “Is there room for me in there?” He pulls the curtains closed and climbs over Phil to lie down. He switches off the light before freeing an edge of the comforter. “Want to be the little spoon?”

Clint knows him too well. “Please.”

Clint folds himself around Phil and makes sure the comforter is tucked securely around them. “This is still the best thing that happens every day.”

Phil smiles into the dark. “The very best.”

**

When Phil comes downstairs the next morning, his mom sits at the dining table putting together this week’s grocery list.

“Morning,” she greets him. “I noticed the truck was missing.”

Phil pours himself a cup of coffee. “Clint took it to go to work.’ He adds milk to the cup and is pleased to discover that the paper bag on the counter contains his favorite muffins. “I offered it to him so he doesn’t have to take the bus. He has a Wisconsin license.”

“Do you think he’ll take it regularly from now on?”

Phil carries his breakfast over to the table. “Probably. Is there some insurance thing to take care of?”

His mom smiles. “Yes. I’ll handle it. It’s just a matter of adding Clint as a driver for your truck.”

That sounds easy enough. “Thanks. I’ll let him know.” Phil starts eating his muffin, and halfway through the cup of coffee, he realizes that now is a good time to tell his mom about the whole dating thing. “I wanted to tell you something.”

She looks up from her list. “What is it?”

Nerves get the better of Phil despite being certain that his mom will take this news well. He twists the mug in his hands. “Clint and I—we’re together now. As in, dating.”

A bright smile comes over his mom’s face. “Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you two. That’s wonderful.” She rubs Phil’s arm.

“Thanks. It’s still really new, but I’m happy, too.” Phil takes another bite of his muffin.

“I have to confess that I thought something has been going on between you two for a good while now.”

Phil has wondered about this himself. “Maybe, but…well, Clint, he, umm, he kissed me when I came home on Thursday, and then we talked about it, and we got it all out in the open, so it’s more official now.”

Phil’s mom listens with rapt attention and increasing pride and adoration. Phil has seen that look on her face many times, but it’s usually reserved for good grades and other school-related activities. It means a lot to see it in this context, too, and to know that she’s genuinely pleased with this new development in Phil’s life.

“I’m glad you already had a conversation about what this means for you. Communication is important.” Her expression turns more serious. “If—when you start having sex, please be safe. I trust that you can buy your own lube and condoms, but let me know if I should get some for you.” 

Phil feels his ears burn and he stares down at his half-eaten muffin. “I can get those myself.”

“Good. And please don’t feel like you have to sneak off to somewhere to sleep with Clint. Sex in a car is entirely overrated.”

“Mom, TMI!”

She pokes his arm. “Oh, come on, all I’m saying is that you have a comfortable bed in your room, so use it.”

“Okay,” Phil mumbles. Once his embarrassment has died down, he realizes that he’s lucky to have a mom like her. There are enough parents in this town who would never endorse their kids having sex at home. “Thanks for being cool about all this.”

She smiles. “We’re all adults here. Well, maybe some of us slightly more than others. And if you and Clint have sex, I’d rather you be safe and comfortable doing that.”

Phil stands and leans over to give her a hug. “Love you.”

She rubs his back. “I love you, too.”

Phil sits back down and finishes his breakfast. He gives his mom a few suggestions for the grocery list and offers to come with her, which he doesn’t do often enough, but today he feels particularly grateful for everything she does.

Just before they get up to head out, she rests her hand on Phil’s arm. “I know you’re excited about exploring all kinds of new things with Clint, but keep in mind that he’s still grieving. That kind of grief doesn’t go away in a month even if he seems fine or doesn’t mention it much.”

“I will.” It is a good reminder—Phil’s mind has been on other things, like college and kissing Clint, but he wants to share everything with Clint, even the hard things. Seems like there is more they need to talk about.

“Next weekend, we’re going to clear out his parents’ house, so that will probably weigh on him. He might want to have you there or prefer that you stay home, but either way, he’s going to need your support.”

“Of course. I’ll talk to him.”

“Alright. And I know that you’ll probably prefer to talk about your relationship with Clint with your friends, but you can always talk to me, too.”

“I know, mom.” He makes sure not to sound flippant because he truly appreciates the offer even though she’s right in assuming that he’ll turn to his friends—mostly Maria—first. 

“Well, then, let’s go, before everyone else arrives at the store and check-out takes forever.”

**

When Phil hears the truck pulling into the driveway, he takes the stairs two steps at a time to meet Clint downstairs. Two minutes pass without a sign of Clint.

Confused, Phil looks out the backdoor window. Clint is on the porch, talking softly in front of the memorial. He looks somber.

Phil thinks of what his mom said earlier about grief, and he wonders if it helps Clint to have a concrete place for keeping the memory of his parents alive.

Retreating, Phil decides to make coffee. Clint just worked a long shift and could probably use the energy boost, and there’s always something comforting about coffee. 

Just when Phil is trying to decide whether to pour Clint’s coffee into a travel mug, Clint comes through the door. A regular mug it is.

His expression brightens when he sees Phil. “Hey!” He shrugs out of his fleece. “Oh, coffee, that’s perfect. I’m exhausted.” Wrapping one arm around Phil’s waist, he leans in for a kiss. 

Phil could definitely get used to the whole getting-kisses-at-all-times thing. “Here you go.” He hands the coffee to Clint. “How was work?”

“The less said about it, the better. Weekends are always tough. Lotsa families with kids today.” Clint adds milk and sugar to his cup. “Can we go upstairs?”

“Sure.” Snuggling on the bed sounds like the best way to spend this rainy afternoon.

They head to Phil’s room, briefly stopping to chat with Phil’s mom, who’s reading a book on the couch. While Phil rearranges the bed, moving around pillows and pulling out a blanket, Clint changes out of his work clothes into sweats.

When they’re settled in, Phil says, “I told my mom about us.”

“Yeah? What did she say?”

“She’s happy for us. She thought this was in the works for a while now.”

Clint glances at Phil between taking sips of coffee. “Kinda was, wasn’t it?”

Phil smiles into his cup. “Yeah.”

“Anything else? I’m not banished from your bed?”

Phil almost snorts coffee through his nose, and has to cough a few times. Clint rubs his back. “Sorry. More like the opposite. She insisted that when we have sex, we should make use of this, and I quote, ‘comfortable bed.’”

“Huh. That’s, wow, okay.”

“There was also some TMI about car sex.” Phil shudders.

“Sex in a car sucks, she’s got that right,” Clint says. 

Figures that Clint has had sex in a car. “Got it, no car sex,” Phil jokes to cover over feeling out of Clint’s league once again.

“You’re so lucky to have a mom like her. Or I guess we’re lucky that she’s so behind us,” Clint muses.

Phil wants to ask if Clint’s mom was supportive like that, or what she would have thought of Clint getting together with someone like Phil. But it doesn’t seem like the right time to bring that up. “That’s what I told her. I’m also glad that the bathroom and her closet are between this bed and her bed.”

Clint grins. “Why, are you gonna be loud?”

“I don’t know,” Phil answers honestly. “But I like not having to worry about it that much.”

Clint gives him a kind look. “Definitely.” He yawns. “I’m going to take a little nap. Will you stay?”

“Of course.” Warmth spreads through Phil at the display of Clint’s trust.

Clint sets his mug down on a nearby shelf and lies down facing the wall. His back lines up with Phil’s thigh, and Phil can tell exactly when Clint slips into sleep.

**

As Clint naps, Phil spends some time reading new comics, but the tempting warmth of Clint’s body and the grey skies outside lull him into a light doze. 

When Clint stirs next to Phil, it’s dark in the room. “Uh, did we sleep away most of the day?” Clint asks.

Phil looks at his phone. “It’s only 4:30.” He reaches up to switch on the bedside lamp.

“Ugh.” Clint rolls over into Phil’s side, resting his head against Phil’s shoulder.

“Did you have a good nap?”

“Hmm. But this weather makes me not want to get up.”

Phil wraps an arm around Clint. “No need to get up until it’s time to get dinner started.”

They stay quiet for a while, enjoying each other’s presence and the sound of raining hitting the window.

“My mom said you’re going to clear out your parents’ house next weekend.” Phil is loath to disrupt the peaceful afternoon, but he wants to get this conversation out of the way.

Clint sighs. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

“Do you—do you want me to come along?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to, if you want me to be there.”

Clint sits up and rubs a hand over his face. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

Phil sits up as well. “No. It’s just…I know that you and my mom haven’t told me everything that’s going on with—with the things you need to take care of. And I’m not saying you need to tell me, but now that we’re together, shouldn’t I—“ Phil pauses, reconsiders. “I want to be there for you in any way I can, even for the hard stuff.” The words feel so unwieldy in his mouth, and he hopes that he didn’t make a mess of something so important.

Clint stays quiet for long moments, hunched over his crossed legs. “Thanks. That means a lot. Really.” He looks at Phil. “It’s just…it’s been really good to have a space where it’s the two of us and none of the other things. The hard stuff.”

Phil nods. If Clint wants to keep it that way because that’s what he needs, then that’s what they’ll do. 

“But I get where you’re coming from,” Clint continues. “So. Okay.” He takes a breath. “Yes, we’re going to clear out the house next weekend, and I’m not looking forward to it. I’d like you to be there.”

“Of course,” Phil says immediately.

Clint give him a barely-there smile. “That’ll make it a little easier. Everyone’s gonna ask me about what I want to do with my parents’ things, and I don’t want to keep them, but I also don’t want to throw them out because some of it we’ve had for a long time, and while everything is worn and kinda broken, it’s also…theirs, and they’re gone now, and—” He pauses. “Sorry, that didn’t make sense.”

Phil runs a hand down Clint’s back. “It did. You could donate what you don’t want to keep?”

“I know. But not to the Salvation Army. Because they’re--”

“A bunch of homophobes, yeah. We could do some research into other charities.”

“Okay. And as for the other things….the lease is sorted out. It was month-to-month, so that wasn’t too hard. And we’re working on getting my parents’ bank account transferred to me. Not that there’s much money in it. Thank god my mom cancelled our one credit card last year. I filed the application for the funeral aid, and hopefully, that will come through even though I don’t technically meet the criteria. But your mom’s been helpful with making a case for me, and if I get the money, I can pay back the money she lent me. I applied for health insurance, and hopefully that’ll come through soon. Oh, and I should check on my free lunch application. They’ve been dragging their feet on that. That’s all, for now. I think.”

“That’s enough to have on your plate in addition to school.” Phil is once again impressed by how well Clint has been juggling all of these responsibilities on top of dealing with losing his parents and his brother being far away. 

Clint leans against Phil. “It’s been hard some days. Most days. But you’ve made all of it a lot better.” He groans. “Ugh, sorry, that was super cheesy.”

“I don’t mind.” Rather the opposite.

Clint sits up. He brings a hand up to the side of Phil’s face, and Phil knows that they’re about to kiss. He lets himself fall into it, surprised that something that is still new feels familiar already. There’s a spark of want, but this kiss isn’t about that. There’s urgency, and a buzz that ripples through Phil, but mostly it’s about the connection they’ve established and what it means to them.

Afterwards, Clint looks at Phil, unguarded and honest, and so filled with affection that it might be scary if Phil didn’t feel exactly the same way.


	11. Firsts and Lasts

On Sunday morning, Phil wakes up achingly hard. He’s still half-caught in a dream that involved Clint and hands roaming everywhere. It felt so good, and Phil is trying to grasp the fragments of the dream, but they float away.

“Morning,” Clint murmurs from right next to Phil. “Had a good dream?”

Phil blinks open his eyes. “How d’you know?”

Clint nuzzles Phil’s neck. “Because you made the most amazing noises.”

Phil is simultaneously mortified and even more turned on. “You heard?” Oh god, what if his mom heard? Probably not. 

“Hmm. I must’ve been half-awake already.” Clint lifts his head to look at Phil. “The sounds you made…fuck, can we—I wanna hear them again.”

Phil nods. He wants—he doesn’t even know what exactly. Whatever Clint wants to give to him. When Clint leans in for a kiss, Phil turns his head way. “Wait. Mints.”

“What?”

Phil gestures to the shelf on his right. “I stashed a box of mints there yesterday.”

“I can’t believe…” Clint mumbles, but reaches for the box. He pops a mint into his mouth and feeds one to Phil. “You’re such a boy scout.”

“Sorry, never was one.”

“In spirit, then.” Clint swallows the rest of his mint. “Can I kiss you now?”

Phil pulls Clint down. There’s nothing hesitant or soft about it, and Phil twists a hand into Clint’s hair while Clint slides half on top of Phil. They stay like this for a few minutes, and Phil could easily come from the pressure of Clint’s body, but this isn’t what he wants.

He breaks off the kiss. Clint looks at him, dazed, want all over his face. Phil fumbles for Clint’s hand and pushes it down his body. Clint’s fingers nudge at the elastic of Phil’s PJ pants.

“Yeah?” Clint asks.

“Make me come.”

Clint shudders. “Fuck, yes. God.” His hips roll against Phil. He’s just as hard as Phil is.

Clint’s hand slips under the elastic, and his fingers feel along Phil’s cock, exploring with gentle touches. Phil wants to jump out of his skin—it’s too much and too little at the same time. He squirms, and when Clint closes his hand for a first stroke, Phil’s hips come off the bed.

“Easy there,” Clint whispers, pressing kisses to Phil’s jaw as he gets into a rhythm. “Is this good?”

Phil nods, and he presses his lips together.

“Let me hear you,” Clint implores. “Please.”

“My mom…”

“She’s probably asleep.”

“She-ahh-she’s an early riser.”

“Even better.” Clint kisses Phil’s neck. “Then she’s downstairs and definitely can’t hear you.”

That’s a good point. And yet. Phil is so used to keeping quiet when he jerks off that it takes him a few moments to let go, but then Clint twists his hand just so, and the moan punches its way out of Phil’s mouth.

“So fucking hot.” Clint kisses Phil, there and gone, just long enough to sweep his tongue into Phil’s mouth. “You got any lube?”

Phil flings a hand to his left. “Wooden box.”

With his free hand, Clint flips open the box and grasps the tube inside. He makes a face when he sees the brand name. “Okay, we need to get some better lube. This stuff isn’t getting near my ass.”

“What, why?” It has worked just fine for Phil’s needs.

“Let me worry about that.” Clint warms the lube between his palms and then goes back to what he was doing. It feels even better now, smooth and slippery. “You’re close.”

Phil has been on the edge since they started this. He can only nod.

“Tell me what you need.”

Phil’s brain is mush. “More pressure. And twist up.” He groans when Clint’s fingers tighten just right. 

“Ever do this?” Clint thumbs over the head, and then presses the pad of his finger into the divot just below.

Phil gasps. Sure, he’s done that, but the angle is different, and Clint keeps pressing and rubbing, and—

Phil comes with a loud groan. Clint hand keeps moving, touch getting lighter until it ceases all together. 

All Phil can manage is catch his breath and float on the high that sparks through his nerve endings. His eyes close; there’s only so many stimuli he can deal with at a time. Phil vaguely registers the sound of tissues being plucked from the box next to the bed, and a gentle swipe across his stomach, and Clint’s hand soothing over his chest.

“You still with me?” Clint asks.

“Maybe.” Phil slowly opens his eyes.

Clint smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hi.” And then it hits Phil: they just had sex. Holy shit. 

“Okay, something’s going through that big brain of yours.”

Phil hesitates. This doesn’t mean nearly as much to Clint as to him; Clint’s probably done this dozens of times. But what the hell, it blew Phil’s mind. “We just had sex…right?”

Clint laughs. “We sure did. Did you enjoy it?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Phil is sure that Clint could see and feel just how much he enjoyed this.

“Just making sure.” Clint leans down for a soft kiss. “D’you wanna know a secret?”

“What?”

“It can be even better.”

Phil makes a noise of disbelief. He might die if it gets more intense.

“I mean, everyone’s different, so maybe this is what you end up liking best. But for me, when someone knows how to fuck me just right, that’s…” He ducks his head for a moment. “Makes me forget my own name.”

Challenge accepted, Phil thinks. “I’ll try my best.”

Clint looks at him with much fondness. “You’ll be amazing. It’ll take a few times to figure it all out, but yeah.”

They kiss again, slow and deep, and Phil lets himself float on how good this feels. When Clint’s hand bumps against his hip, he realizes that Clint is getting himself off. 

Phil pulls away. He runs a hand down Clint’s arm. “Can I help?”

“Shit, of course. I wasn’t going to ask…”

“I want to.” 

Clint rolls onto his back. “I’ll just…” He hooks his thumbs into the top of his PJ pants and pushes them down to his thighs.

Phil’s mouth goes dry. He can’t stop looking. He’s watched porn, but this is different because it’s Clint, and he’s clearly incredibly turned on because of Phil being with him and what they just did together. 

Phil runs the tips of his fingers down the length of Clint’s cock, much like Clint did for him. He just wants to feel first. It’s both familiar and different. Clint’s breath hitches when Phil rubs his palm across the sticky head.

“That’s good, keep going.” A flush stains Clint’s cheeks.

Phil uses his thumb to catch beads of precome as they well up, spreading them around. Clint’s breathing gets heavier. “Can you come like this?” Phil asks, fascinated.

“No.” Clint sucks in another breath. “But it feels amazing.”

Phil keeps going, alternating his thumb and palm, and mixing in strokes down to the base. He adds lube to the mix, and keeps watching Clint’s face, which twists in pleasure more often than not.

“Show me what you like?” Phil encourages.

Clint’s eyes come back into focus and meet Phil’s gaze. Clint’s hand closes over Phil’s fingers. Clint changes up the rhythm and the way Phil’s hand twists along the shaft, but the most amazing thing is that Clint keeps looking at Phil and lets him see everything: every reaction, every feeling. It’s mesmerizing. 

Phil can see on Clint’s face that he is about to come before he can feel it with his hand, and it nearly undoes him. Clint keeps going for a few more strokes, then rests their clasped hands on his chest. Phil tips forward to rest his head against Clint’s shoulder. His chest is tight, too many feelings swirling through him. He breathes in and out, in and out.

Gently, Clint lets go of Phil’s hand and swipes first his, then Phil’s palm across his T-shirt to clean them. “Sorry, can I…” he mumbles, and Phil moves away. Clint pulls his T-shirt over his head. “Lost cause for now.” He pulls his pajamas back up and stretches out again, pulling Phil down against his chest.

Phil runs a hand along Clint’s side, loving the feel of warm skin under his fingers. He feels sleepy again. “What time is it?”

“Uh, does it matter?”

“Not really, except if it’s getting late, my mom might come and check on us.” The curtains are closed, but Phil still doesn’t want her to stumble on them like this.

Clint reaches for his phone. “9:21.”

“Hmm, okay. She won’t start to wonder until after 10:30.” He watches Clint set the alarm for 10:15.

“There. Now let’s just bask in this glow.”

Phil turns his head to press a kiss to Clint’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

**

They finally make get out of bed ten minutes after the alarm goes off. After separate showers, they head downstairs. Phil stops in the middle of the stairs and Clint bumps into his back.

“Why d’you stop?” Clint asks.

“Trying to figure out if my mom is in the kitchen,” Phil replies. He can’t hear anything.

It turns out that Phil’s mom is in the backyard raking leaves. With much relief, Phil begins to pull breakfast together.

“You know you have to face your mom sometime today,” Clint observes as he spoons coffee into the filter.

“Yes, but that will be after I’m caffeinated and had something to eat.” Phil puts bread into the toaster.

“She said you should have sex in your bed.”

Phil feels his cheeks burn just thinking about it. “That doesn’t mean she needs to know when that happens.”

They make it halfway through breakfast before Phil’s mom comes back inside. “Good morning! You slept late today.”

Clint gives her a bright smile. “Guess we needed it.”

Phil makes an assenting noise while buttering his toast with much intent.

His mom ruffles his hair. “Someone’s a grumpy little bear this morning.”

Clint laughs into this mug while Phil lets out a pained, “Mom, please.”

She breezily ignores him. “Anyway, I’m going to get ready to meet Amanda for lunch. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“Have fun,” Phil manages. Clint gives her a little wave.

When she’s gone, Clint says, “We should do laundry, grumpy little bear.”

“Do not even start with that.” Phil is not opposed to pet names, but not that one. None of the ones his mom uses for him. That would be too weird. “As for the laundry, my mom usually does it.”

Clint gives Phil a pointed look. “First of all, I can’t believe you’re eighteen and still let your mom do your laundry. And second, do you really just want to toss your pajamas and my T-shirt into the hamper?”

“Not really. Okay. Will you show me?”

“Of course.”

**

Clint talks Phil through the different temperature settings and all the other buttons on the washing machine, and tells him what can go into the dryer and what cannot, and Phil almost wishes he was taking notes because laundry is far more complicated than he expected.

During the wash cycle, they start their homework, followed by some prep for upcoming quizzes and tests. When their clothes are in the dryer, Phil finalizes his debate notes for the first tournament in two weeks. His thoughts stray to Clint and his amazing hands every so often, and he wishes he could drag Clint upstairs and spend the rest of the afternoon in bed.

Later that night, they end up making out as they settle down to sleep, and Clint gets Phil off with excruciatingly slow strokes that make Phil feel like he’s about to fly apart.

He’s so fucked; how will he ever focus on something else ever again?

**

Maria arrives early for the GSA meeting on Monday. No one’s there yet aside from Phil, who is reading over the agenda items for the week.

“Did you and Clint have sex?” She asks casually.

Phil nearly drops his notebook. “Why, do I look different?”

Maria laughs. “No, just taking an educated guess.”

“Oh. Um. Yeah. We did.” Phil was going to tell her, but he imagined getting some time to build up to the news.

She sits down next to him. “Did you have a good time?” Her tone is lighthearted, but there’s some concern weaving in.

Phil nods, and he can’t hold back a smile. “It was really good.” He lowers his voice. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Maria snorts. “I don’t see the problem with that.”

“The problem is that I have an English paper, and a Calculus quiz, and extra debate prep this week, and I really need to focus on all that.”

Maria wraps her arm around Phil’s shoulders and gives them a squeeze. “You’ll be fine. And I’m glad that whatever you’re doing is working for you and Clint.”

Phil slumps against her. “It is pretty awesome.”

When people trickle into the room for the meeting, Phil straightens and puts his game face on. He can totally do this.

**

He cannot do this. Or at least not completely. It’s the first week of Phil’s life when teachers have to ask him to pay attention multiple times, and he’s getting odd looks from his classmates about it. Phil wants to crawl into a hole and never appear again, but he also cannot stop his wandering thoughts.

It’s especially difficult on Wednesday because the morning started with them curled up together, Phil’s arm around Clint’s shoulder and his hand down Clint’s pants, working him with hard and fast twists until Clint was shivering against him and keening into Phil’s neck. When Clint came, his hand twisted into Phil’s T-shirt, as if he desperately needed something to hold on to.

Phil’s mind flashes back to those minutes every so often—the way Clint held nothing back and asked for what he wanted, which is so different from how Clint is the rest of the time, though he’s more open with Phil now when it comes to things that are on his mind.

On Thursday evening, Clint falls asleep in the five minutes Phil spends in the bathroom. It doesn’t surprise Phil. Clint worked late on Wednesday evening so he could take part in movie night, and then got up early to finish studying for a Spanish test. Phil carefully lies down behind Clint and wraps himself around him. Clint doesn’t wake up.

After movie night on Friday, Phil crowds into Clint’s space and starts kissing him, but Clint pulls away.

“Sorry,” Clint says. “I’m not up for anything tonight.”

Phil pulls back. They end up on their sides facing one another. “You don’t have to be sorry for that. Is it because of tomorrow?”

Clint hums in agreement. He wiggles closer until their bodies align. He wraps an arm around Phil.

Phil slides his hand under Clint’s T-shirt and draws circles over his back. He feels Clint exhale. He doesn’t want to tell Clint that it’ll be alright because the next day won’t be alright—it’ll be hard and uncomfortable. “I’ll be right there with you. For decisions that need to be made, or just for hugs.”

“’kay.”

Phil tries to stay awake with Clint for as long as he can, but eventually his eyelids get too heavy. As he slips into sleep, he hopes that Clint will find some rest, too.

**

When they pull up to Clint’s old house on Saturday, it takes Clint a minute to step outside. Phil holds out his hand, which Clint accepts without hesitation. They sit together for another minute, then Clint opens the door with a determined expression.

Leaves scatter across the grass, driven by flares of cold wind. A large dumpster sits in the driveway.

They meet Phil’s mom in the front yard. “We have about fifteen minutes before Carl and his son Charlie show up to help with the heavier things. I thought these might be helpful to decide what stays, what goes to charity, and what gets thrown out.” She has three sheets of stickers in her hand: blue, green, and red circles. “Blue for keeping, green for charity, red for the dumpster?” She looks at Clint.

“Sure.” He accepts the stickers.

They go inside. Clint turns into the living room and starts placing stickers on furniture.

In a gentle tone, Phil’s mom says, “Remember to put a sticker on everything, even the things that may not seem obvious, like the posters on the wall or the waste basket.”

“Right. Thanks.”

Phil and his mom pick up the lighter things headed for the dumpster and group the donations into a corner of the room. 

When Carl and Charlie show up, there are brief introductions. Phil has met them before when his mom needed help around the house. Clint remains subdued, but shares his gratitude.

“Come help me in the bedroom?” Clint asks after they finish the living room.

“Of course.” Phil follows Clint, who seems much less certain about the things that remain in his parents’ bedroom.

Clint runs a hand over the top of the dresser. “We’ve had this forever. It used to look really nice, or maybe I just remember it looking nice. I know it’s not worth saving, but…”

“We can find a place for it. We could even store it in the garage, and then fix it up next summer.”

Clint smiles through his sadness. “That’s a nice thought.” He places a red dot on it. “But I think it has really outlived its purpose.”

Phil isn’t so sure about it. While Clint goes through the contents of the drawers, he sends a quick text to his mom about saving the dresser anyway.

They move on to the closet. Phil holds open a trash bag as Clint sorts through the clothes. Most are in good enough shape to save.

Clint pulls out a grey hoodie with a faded beach motive and the phrase “Indiana Dunes National Park” on it. He folds it into his arms and closes his eyes. Phil can tell that he’s trying to keep his composure. When Phil is about to reach out, Clint looks at Phil. His eyes have a wet sheen to them.

“My mom got this on the one family vacation we ever went on. I think I was maybe eight? Or nine? We packed into the car for a few days and drove around Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan. When we went to the dunes, we got horribly rained on, so my dad bought the hoodie for my mom.”

“You should keep it,” Phil suggests.

“It’s not too much, right? I already have that other sweater.”

“No, of course not. We’ll find a place for everything you want to keep.” It hurts Phil to think that Clint might decide not to keep certain things because he doesn’t want to bother Phil and his mom with storing them. 

“Okay.” Clint flips the hoodie over his shoulder and continues to pack up the remaining clothes.

They end up with three bags that can go to charity, and one bag that will go into the trash. They also find a folder with important documents, like Barney’s birth certificate and Clint’s parents’ social security cards, and a small photo album. Clint immediately heads out to the truck to stow them safely lest they get lost in the shuffle. 

When he comes back inside, Phil asks, “Kitchen next?”

Clint nods. In the hallway, they pass Phil’s mom. “Clint, wait,” she calls out. “I assume everything in the bathroom can go? Shampoo and such? Or do you want to look through anything?”

“No, that can all go.” 

“Got it.” She rubs a hand over Clint’s arm before continuing on.

In the kitchen, the rickety table and chairs get red stickers. Most of the plates and pots get green stickers. 

Clint pulls four glasses from a cabinet. They have strawberries painted on them and have clearly seen better days. Some berries are scratched and others are faded. There are chips on the rims of all glasses. 

Phil stands next to Clint and wraps an arm around his waist. “Do these have a story?”

Clint leans into Phil. “Not really. Barney and I would always drink out of them.”

“That’s a good memory.”

“Guess so.”

Phil turns his head to press a kiss to Clint’s temple, and he catches Carl passing by, who stops in his tracks when he sees Phil and Clint and the obvious affection between them. At least he only looks surprised, and not hostile.

Phil ignores him and turns his attention back to Clint. Footsteps recede down the hall. “So, let’s keep these.”

Clint hesitates, but ends up placing blue dots on them. 

When they’ve finally sorted everything in the house, a few hours have gone by. It surprises Phil because there didn’t seem to be much stuff to begin with. They take the few things Clint decided to keep out to the truck. Along with the bags of clothes that they’ll wash before donating, not even half of the truck bed is filled.

Phil’s mom walks over to them. “Are you sure that this is all you want?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to take one last look around?”

“I really don’t.” Clint looks ready to bolt.

“Okay. Why don’t you and Phil head home, then. I’ll meet you there.”

“Will you be okay with what’s left?” Phil asks. Clint can always take the truck and Phil can catch a ride with his mom.

“There isn’t much left anyway.” She gives him a reassuring smile. “Should I pick up some take-out on the way back? Pizza, maybe?”

Phil nods, and Clint says, “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“I know that Phil has a no mushrooms rule, but do you have any preferences, Clint?”

“I like Hawai’ian. With extra ham, if possible?”

“Of course. I haven’t had that in forever. Phil’s not a fan.”

“That combo is all yours,” Phil affirms. Meat and fruit have no business being that close together. 

“Alright, I’ll see you boys at home.” She starts walking back to the house.

Phil and Clint call out their goodbyes.

The drive back happens in contemplative silence. Halfway through, it starts to drizzle. Phil is ready to spend the rest of the day under a blanket, and he hopes Clint feels the same way.

They carry everything into the house. Clint takes the hoodie and documents upstairs, the glasses go into the sink, and the bags of clothes go into the laundry room off the kitchen.

“I’ll be on the porch for a bit,” Clint says. “Then we can get started on the laundry.”

Phil notices that Clint still holds his mom’s hoodie. “Take your time.”

After Clint has stepped out onto the porch, Phil feels at a loss. He unloads the dishwasher and reloads it. The counters look like they could use a good scrub, so he moves everything off them and gets to work.

He’s just about done when Clint comes back inside. His eyes are red-rimmed. He carefully hangs the hoodie over the back of a chair, then drags his fleece over his head and drapes it over the chair, too.

Phil dries his hands. “Hug?”

Clint is in his arms in an instant. “When will this be less hard?” He whispers into Phil’s ear.

“I don’t know.” All he can do is hold Clint tight and hope it helps.

They spend a few minutes holding on to each other before Clint pulls away. “Let’s get started on the laundry.”

“Are you sure? It can wait.”

The grim determination is back on Clint’s face. “I just want to get this done.”

They sort everything into piles of light, dark, and delicates. 

“When you’re out on the porch…” Phil begins. Maybe it’s not a good idea to bring this up now. But he’s been wondering, and at least today they’ve already been talking about Clint’s parents. “Do you talk to them?”

Clint finishes loading the washer before he answers. “I talk to my mom.” He measures detergent. “Just little things about what I’ve been doing. Things that are on my mind.”

“Does it help?”

“Kinda.” Clint squares his shoulders. “Okay, tell me how to set this for a cold wash with a short spin cycle.”

Phil looks at the buttons and tries to remember what Clint explained last week. “This one…and this one?”

Clint gives him an indulgent look. “First one is correct. Second one, not so much.” He points at a different button. “It’s this one.”

Phil regrets not having taken any notes. He presses the correct buttons.

Gesturing at the various piles of clothes around them, Clint says, “You’ll have it figured out by the end of all of this.”

**

Halfway through the third washing and second dryer cycles, Phil’s mom comes home.

The pizza clearly brightens Clint’s mood, and Phil feels a little lighter too, even if he could do without his mom and Clint extolling the deliciousness of their pizza toppings.

They end up watching a movie together, and Phil finally gets the blanket snuggles he looked forward to.


	12. Keep You Close

On Sunday, Phil wakes up when he gets jostled by Clint climbing over him. He instinctively reaches for Clint, trying to keep him close.

“Gotta get to work,” Clint says softly. He sits on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through Phil’s hair.

“It’s not even light out yet.”

“Tell that to my manager.” Clint leans down to nuzzle Phil’s cheek. “Your mom’s going to the movies this afternoon, right?”

Phil’s eyes have closed again. “Hmm, yeah.”

“You wanna spend some time in bed then?”

Even half asleep, Phil figures out that Clint isn’t talking about a nap. He opens his eyes. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Clint smiles. “Good. Gives me something to look forward to. Now go back to sleep and dream up some things you want to do with me later.”

Phil pulls Clint in for a kiss, morning breath be damned.

“Exactly like that,” Clint murmurs and stands up to get dressed.

**

When Clint comes home, he immediately walks up to Phil for a kiss. “Thought of you all day.”

“Same.” Phil leans in to sniff Clint’s T-shirt. “Fryer duty again?”

“Yes, and I will take a shower. Your mom’s gone?”

“She left fifteen minutes ago.”

Clint takes Phil’s hand and drags him toward the stairs. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

While Clint is in the shower, Phil flops onto the bed and wonders if Clint has any specific plans for the afternoon. If it’s just making out and getting off in a more leisurely way, or if he has more in mind. Phil has thought more than once about what it would be like to have Clint spread out under him and to see what he looks like when Phil pushes into him. But that also seems like a big step, and maybe they should talk about that some more. Or maybe they should just get it over with that first probably sucky time and then it’s done and—

Clint opens the door in nothing but a towel and all of Phil’s whirling thoughts go quiet. And when Clint casually drops the towel to the floor, nothing but want remains.

Phil gets off the bed. He needs to touch all of Clint right now.

Clint is only too happy about Phil’s roaming hands, and they kiss again. He tugs at the hem of Phil’s sweatshirt. “How about we equal the playing field?”

“Yeah, okay.” Phil’s heartbeat speeds up as Clint tugs first the sweatshirt, then the T-shirt over Phil’s head. They’ve been sort of naked together before, but it was only under the comforter and in dim light, not in broad daylight. And Phil knows that Clint is into him, but Clint is mostly well-defined muscles all over, and Phil is very much not.

“Hey,” Clint says, his hand framing Phil’s cheek. “Are you with me?”

Phil takes a moment to take comfort in the adoration and desire he sees Clint’s eyes. “I am.”

“Good.” Clint runs a hand down Phil’s chest and then pushes down his sweatpants and boxers all at once. He kneels down to help Phil with his socks and tickles him behind his knees, which makes Phil laugh.

“That’s better,” Clint says as he straightens. He pulls Phil flush against him and kisses him, deep and languid and full of promise.

“Bed?” Phil asks.

Clint smiles.

They tumble down onto the comforter, Clint half on top of Phil. There are more kisses, and more wandering hands. It’s intoxicating to feel Clint get hard, to notice how his breathing changes, and how he presses more urgently against Phil’s hip.

Clint shifts his weight and settles fully on top of Phil. “Okay?” 

“Yes,” Phil whispers, and wraps his arms tightly around Clint’s back, just for a moment, so he can feel as much of Clint against him as possible. 

Clint pushes up on his elbows and rolls his hips. It feels amazing, especially because Clint looks at Phil the whole time, studying his face. When Clint reaches down to better align his cock with Phil’s, need shoots through Phil. 

They rock together for a few minutes until Clint pulls away with an apologetic kiss. “One sec.” He gets off the bed and rummages through his backpack. “I bought the good stuff.” He lies back down and spreads lube over his hand.

Clint gives Phil’s cock a few good tugs that make him groan. It’s liberating not to have to worry whether his mom might hear him or accidentally walk in on them. Phil reaches for Clint, wanting him close again.

Clint wraps his hand around both of them, cursing into Phil’s neck. After a few strokes, he lets go. The next time he rolls his hips, the slippery friction nearly short-circuits Phil’s brain.

“This is so good,” Phil murmurs. His hands wander down to Clint’s ass. Clint moans and pushes more urgently against Phil.

“The whole being-naked thing has its advantages,” Clint says. He kisses Phil’s neck, collarbone, and shoulder before returning to his mouth. Phil expects a needy and messy kiss, but it’s slow and gentle.

Phil slides his hands up Clint’s back, holding on loosely. “Slowing down?”

“Taking our time.” Clint hooks a hand into the back of Phil’s knee and lifts it higher. It shouldn’t make much of a difference, but it does. It heightens everything and Phil finds himself hurtling toward his orgasm even though their movements are less rushed.

He works a hand between them and looks down to see Clint’s cock slide through the tight hold of his fingers as he keeps both of them tightly aligned. They’re both nearly there, Phil can tell, and when he swipes his thumb over their heads, a shudder goes through Clint.

“Fuck, do that again.”

Phil obliges, and Clint presses down harder. They keep working together, murmured encouragements and fingers holding and pressing just so.

“Close,” Phil bites out as everything in him starts to tighten.

“Wait, just—“ Clint’s head dips forward, looking down their bodies as well.

That alone nearly undoes Phil, but he bites his lips, holding his hand still as they both push up through the ring of his fingers.

Clint groans. “Now, now—“

Phil twists his hand up and down and sees stars. Clint isn’t far behind, spilling over Phil’s hand. His hips twitch helplessly against Phil, and Phil lets go to wrap both arms around Clint. 

Clint sprawls over Phil, his heart beating fast. Phil closes his eyes, a pleasant buzz rushing through him.

“I’ll move in a second,” Clint mumbles.

“Just don’t fall asleep.” It’s a very tempting thought, but Phil would rather avoid waking up plastered together.

Another minute passes, then Phil gently pushes at Clint’s shoulder. “C’mon, let me at least get some Kleenex.”

Clint stretches and pulls the box down. They wipe each other off haphazardly, and Clint pulls the duvet over them. “Nap, please.”

Phil has no objections to that.

**

When they wake up, they have another half hour left until Phil expects his mom to be back. He tells Clint as much, and Clint burrows deeper into the comforter and against Phil.

“Phil?” Clint asks softly.

“Yeah?”

“D’you think…” He pauses. “D’you think you might want to fuck me sometime soon?”

Phil’s brain takes a moment to catch up to the unexpected question.

Clint seems to take it for hesitation, and he adds, “Sorry. Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, wait,” Phil says. “I’m just sleepy, and that’s a big question. At least for me.” He wants to, of course, but it’s different to fantasize about it than making plans for it.

“I know.” Clint shifts around so they can look at each other. “It’s just—it can be so good, and I want that with you. I wanna be that close to you.” There’s so much longing in Clint’s eyes.

Phil realizes that Clint is asking for so much more than sex, and that he’s putting an enormous amount of trust into Phil by asking for this. Clint has a lot on the line here, too; Phil remembers him talking about how feelings had never figured much in all the sex Clint had before, and this? This is the opposite of that. This is not only Clint asking for something he wants—which is difficult enough for Clint when it comes to things that matter—but it’s also Clint rendering himself vulnerable and laying himself bare.

“I want that, too. So much.” Phil kisses Clint, pouring all of his feelings into it. He gets every ounce of them back. “Can we wait until the next time my mom’s gone for a few hours?”

“Of course. We could always cancel movie night,” Clint teases.

Phil smiles. “Oh, sure, and then I’ll just tell Jasper and Maria that we can’t meet that week because it’s the only predictable time my mom’s not home and Clint and I would really like to fuck, so sorry.”

“Yup. Sounds right to me.” 

Phil laughs.

“But in all seriousness, I’d never ask you to cancel movie night. We’ll find a time. And until then, there are so many other things we can do.”

Phil swallows. “Yeah?”

“Hmm. Now that we have some high-quality lube, your fingers should make the acquaintance of my ass.”

Phil’s throat feels dry. “That can be arranged.”

Clint grins and shimmies closer. He’s half-hard again. “Care to go for another round? These sheets are done for anyway.”

“Absolutely,” Phil says and pushes Clint onto his back.

**  
The next week flies by with the usual school work and extra debate prep, and then suddenly it’s Sunday afternoon again. Phil stands backstage in the auditorium, about to head out for the final round of the city-wide debate tournament. It’s the first hurdle toward the state tournament and it shouldn’t be a big deal. Phil has won this round three years in a row.

“You got this,” Clint says and takes both of Phil’s hands into his own.

Phil is grateful to have something to hold on to. “I hope so.”

“Of course. We’ve gone over all possible strategies together, you have your facts down, and I’ll cheer you on. I’ll be right there in the front row next to Jasper and Maria.”

Knowing that Clint will be there helps. Normally, only die-hard debate nerds and coerced best friends are in the audience. Phil told Clint he could stay home instead of subjecting himself to the day-long affair, but Clint insisted on being there. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Five minutes!” someone calls out.

Clint leans in for a quick kiss. “Okay, I’ll go sit down.”

There are some heads that swivel into their direction, and then some whispers, but Phil doesn’t care. “I’ll find you after.”

“Not if I find you first!” With a smile and a wave, Clint leaves.

Two minutes into Phil’s turn, he knows that he has this in the bag. His opponent has some good moves, but not as much experience as Phil, and he isn’t quite as in command of facts and figures as Phil is.

It’s still a relief when it’s all over and Phil has qualified for the next tournament. He enjoys the claps and cheers—he’s sure that most of them come from his support team in the front row—and makes his way off the stage. 

Clint finds him in the hallway. “You were amazing.”

Phil smiles. “Thanks. It went pretty well.”

“Come with me,” Clint says and takes Phil by the hand to drag him around the corner. He crowds Phil against the wall and settles his hands on Phil’s hips. “That was seriously hot. Like, so hot.”

Phil snorts. “No way.”

“So. Hot,” Clint whispers against Phil’s lips.

The kiss that follows is deep and desperate, and Phil loses track of time.

“Excuse me,” someone calls out.

Phil pulls away from Clint with much regret. How did his hand end up under Clint’s shirt? “Hi, Mike.” 

“Phil, if you can tear yourself away from your boyfriend, the awards ceremony is in five minutes.”

Phil desperately fights against the blush rising on his cheeks. “I’ll be there.”

Mike nods and walks away.

“Who’s that?” Clint asks.

Phil lets his head tip forward against Clint’s shoulder. “My debate coach. He’s going to hold this over me for the next month.”

Clint rubs his back. “In a bad way?” He sounds concerned. 

“No.” Phil straightens with a sigh. “I mean, he’s not a homophobe or anything. He’s just going to tease me about it.”

“Okay, in that case, we still have two more minutes for kisses.”

Phil shakes his head in amusement, but kisses Clint anyway.

**

Phil’s trophy gets a place of honor on the dining table, and his mom makes baked mac ‘n cheese from scratch to celebrate.

Clint provides a lively recap of the tournament, and Phil’s mom interrupts with questions and her own memories from past years. She usually attends the first tournament of the season, but Phil assured her that it was okay to go to Maggie’s] birthday happy hour instead.

“I’m proud of you,” she says once Clint has wrapped his story.

“Thanks, Mom,” Phil mumbles into another forkful of cheesy goodness.

They eat quietly for a bit until Clint sets his fork down. He looks back and forth between Phil and his mom. “There’s something I wanted to ask.”

“Of course,” Phil’s mom replies.

“I know we have some Thanksgiving plans already,” Clint begins, referring to the dessert gathering at Jasper’s. “But I was wondering….see, the last few years, my family would go to a soup kitchen on Thanksgiving because that was the only way we’d get a nice dinner. So if we could spend some time volunteering on Thursday, that’d mean a lot to me.” He twists his fork in his hand.

Phil nods immediately, and his mom says, “Absolutely. That’s a lovely idea. I’ll make some calls to see who still needs help.”

“Thank you.”

Phil reaches across the table to give Clint’s hand a squeeze. It’s so like Clint to think of this, not just because of what he’s been through, but because he’s kind and generous. Phil once again feels so lucky to have him in his life.

**

Thanksgiving break starts Wednesday at noon. Phil vows not to think about school until Sunday morning. All he wants to do for the next three days is eat good food and spend time with the people he loves. 

His mom takes half of the day off, too, and they brave the supermarket to buy the ingredients for Thanksgiving dinner. She asks Clint one last time if there are any dishes he likes in particular, and Clint repeats again that he likes everything they have planned. Phil can tell that Clint gets nervous as he sees the climbing total at the check-out, so Phil asks Clint to help him bag their groceries. It seems to be enough of a distraction.

After they have unpacked everything at home and helped to do some initial food prep, Phil is only too happy to escape to his room with Clint. 

Three full baskets of clean laundry sit in the corner, like they have for the last four days, and Phil knows that he won’t be able to relax until he’s dealt with them. 

“Will you help me fold these?” Phil asks. “I know it’s mostly my stuff, but—“

“Of course.” 

Phil puts on some music, and they get to work. It goes quickly enough until Phil hits the clean sheets and his personal nemesis, the fitted sheet. How are there five of them? It almost makes him want to scale back on how often he has sex with Clint.

Phil picks up the first one and tries to fold it into a relatively flat rectangle, but the fabric gets bunched no matter how hard he tries.

Clint laughs. “What are you doing?”

Phil balls up the sheet. “I’m trying to fold this! I hate these.”

“Hey, give that to me. I know a trick.” Clint takes the sheet from Phil and carries it over to the bed. He lays the top half on the comforter. “Okay, see these top two corners? You take the bottom corners, flip them inside out, and then stuff them into the top ones. Like this.” Clint makes it look easy. The half-folded sheet already looks better than anything Phil attempted. “Now you can make sure the left and right side lie flat.” Clint bends down to do just that. “And now you can fold it this way,” he folds one half over the other. “And then once more, and ta-da! Folded sheet.” 

Clint holds a neat stack of fabric.

“Do that again,” Phil says.

Clint gives him an indulgent smile. “Sure, but it’s really not that difficult.”

Phil needs to see Clint go through the motions again in part so he can remember how to do it, but also because there’s something strangely attractive about seeing him fold the sheet with care and precision.

Phil eagerly watches as Clint lays down another sheet, then tugs, folds, flattens, and finishes it into another neat rectangle.

“One more?” Clint asks, amused.

Phil nods.

When Clint is done with the third sheet, Phil reaches for his wrist and steps close to him.

Clint’s arms come around his hips. “Are we taking a break?”

“Yes. Apparently, I have a thing for you competently folding laundry.”

Clint’s nose crinkles with laughter. “Whatever you say. Come here.”

There’s something so comforting about kissing Clint in an unhurried way, and Phil lets himself fall into that feeling. 

Clint gently tumbles them down onto the bed and pulls Phil on top of him. Soon their hands wander under shirts and Clint draws one of his legs up and friction starts to build—

“I have another—“ Phil’s mom’s voice comes through the open door.

Phil and Clint spring apart. Phil tries to be mature and cool about the whole thing, but he really wants to hide behind Clint’s back.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but the door was open…” She looks at them with a smile. “Don’t mind me, I only wanted to bring you another basket of laundry.” She sets it down on the floor. “Do you want the door closed?”

Clint’s “yes” mingles with Phil’s “please.”

She pulls the door shut behind her.

“Argh.” Phil drops back on the bed and rubs his hands over his face. “Why.”

Clint stretches out next to him. “That wasn’t so bad. At least you didn’t have your dick out or anything.”

“Oh my god, don’t even mention that.” Phil would never be able to look his mom in the eyes again.

“Guess we’ll have to be better about remembering to close the door.” Clint’s fingers skim over the edge of Phil’s sweater. “So, is the mood totally ruined, or…”

Phil looks at the door, and then at Clint, and after another moment of hesitation, pulls Clint closer. There’s no way his mom will check in on them again, and he rather liked where they were headed before they got interrupted. The laundry can wait.


	13. Thanksgiving

The alarm goes off way too early for Phil’s taste, but he knows it’s for a good cause: Thanksgiving dinner prep and volunteering.

“Buffer?” He mumbles into Clint’s chest.

“Fifteen minutes, as always.”

At least there’s that. Phil doesn’t doze off again, but rather enjoys the sleepy warmth radiating off Clint. 

“Do you ever have people over for Thanksgiving?” Clint asks.

“Not often. My grandparents and basically all my family lives out in California. We flew there once when I was little, but it’s a long trip and so expensive that we haven’t done it again. So yeah, it’s usually just my mom and me. And now, you.”

Clint remains quiet for a moment. “We bought a lot of food for just three people.”

Phil props himself up on his elbow. “My mom’s motto for Thanksgiving is ‘go big or go home.’ Besides, the leftovers are the best part, and they freeze well.”

“Hmm, leftovers.”

Phil looks down at Clint. A sliver of morning sun comes through the curtains and plays over Clint’s face. It makes the color of his eyes that much more vivid. 

“You’re staring,” Clint says.

“You’re beautiful,” Phil replies.

Clint rolls his eyes and turns his head to the side. Phil uses that opportunity to kiss his cheek and jaw. Clint snorts and twitches—clearly Phil hit a ticklish spot. 

Clint slips a hand under Phil’s shirt and zeroes in on his side, fully aware that Phil will burst out laughing if Clint so much as brushes a fingertip on the area under his ribs.

Phil soon gasps, and then they tussle, and it ends with Clint holding Phil’s hands over his head. Phil melts into the mattress, the fun fight draining out of him and replaced with an urgent, primal want.

Clint sees the shift in Phil, and leans down to kiss Phil in the dirtiest way possible. Phil moans and strains up against Clint’s hold, imagining how this can go on, just something short and messy and—

The alarm goes off for a second time.

Clint lets go of Phil. “Fuck me, shut up, stupid phone!” He feels around the sheets until he finds it and pushes the stop button. He flops down next to Phil. “D’you think we could…”

“My mom will definitely come and check on us.”

Clint makes an unhappy noise.

“Tomorrow,” Phil promises. “My mom always does the whole Black Friday thing with her friends.”

“So she’ll be gone for a few hours?”

“At least.” 

Clint smiles. “We’re not getting out of this bed.” Turning more serious, he asks, “Was that okay, holding your hands down like that?”

Phil lifts his head to kiss Clint’s cheek. “Yeah, that was totally okay.” He appreciates that Clint checked in about that, though. “Okay, let’s get downstairs.”

They find Phil’s mom in the living room watching the beginning of the Thanksgiving Parade.

“Wow, I haven’t watched that in forever,” Clint says.

“It’s a bit of a tradition,” Phil’s mom replies. “There’s coffee and cinnamon rolls in the kitchen.”

Phil and Clint make their way down the hall.

“Did your mom get up early to bake these?” Clint cuts generous portions for himself and Phil.

“I’m pretty sure they came from a package.” Phil pulls two mugs out of a cabinet and gets started on their coffees.

“Still. Really makes it feel like a holiday.” There’s a flash of sadness, there and gone in an instant.

“My mom’s always been good about that. Probably because of my dad not being here. I think she wanted to make sure I’m not missing out on anything.”

Clint picks up their plates and Phil grabs their mugs. “Your mom is awesome like that.”

It always makes Phil happy when Clint says that. He hopes that it means Clint is starting to feel at home with them. “She is.”

They settle on the couch, sitting a little too close for eating comfortably, but neither of them moves. Clint tucks himself against Phil’s side as soon as the plates are out of their hands. 

Phil’s mom looks over at them. “Do you want me to take a picture of you?”

Phil isn’t sure that’s necessary, but Clint says yes, so she gets out her phone. She takes three pictures—“so you have some to choose from”—and then sends them via text.

Clint looks at them immediately, a soft smile on his face. “I like this one.” He turns the phone to Phil. 

Phil’s hair is sticking up oddly, but he likes how happy they look in the photo. He didn’t expect to see that. “Yeah, that’s a good one.”

Clint sets it as his lockscreen, and Phil’s heart does a weird thump. He knows that Clint likes him a lot, but this is such a public confirmation of that.

Fifteen minutes later, Phil’s mom hustles them off the couch and into the kitchen. There’s a seemingly endless amount of peeling, chopping, and dicing to be done, but by the end of it, they have everything ready to go into the oven or onto the stovetop once they get back from volunteering. They’ll probably be tired, so it was a good call to get the majority of the work done this morning.

**

The soup kitchen is already swarming with staff and volunteers an hour before Thanksgiving dinner is set to start. Some people work on setting up the food while others help to make the room look more festive. 

Phil is at the mashed potato station while Clint is in charge of gravy right next to him. It’s obvious that Clint’s work experience makes him much better at this—he chats with everyone coming through, and is quick and efficient with ladling gravy on people’s plates. Phil needs his full focus on getting the right portion of potatoes on plates without spilling anything.

Once the line slows and fewer people come in, Clint asks if Phil can handle both their stations for a little while. Phil assumes he wants a break, but Clint starts walking around the room, stopping at tables with families. He mostly talks to the little kids, who laugh at Clint’s animated gestures and wacky facial expressions. Phil cannot tear his eyes away.

“He’s doing a good job with the kids. Making them feel more settled,” Phil’s mom says.

Phil nods. “He must know what it feels like to come to an unfamiliar place and eat there when you’re supposed to be at home with your family.”

His mom rubs a hand over Phil’s shoulder. “He’s a keeper.”

Phil ducks his head. “I know.” Clint’s move to Wisconsin was brought about by unfortunate circumstances, but Phil is so glad that it allowed them to meet. He can’t imagine not having Clint in his life. “How do you know if you love someone?”

She smiles. “If you ask that question, you already know the answer.”

Phil senses the truth in her words. He hasn’t put his feelings for Clint into such a definitive concept before—hasn’t allowed himself to put such a big scary label on it—but he also knows that it’s true. He loves Clint. With his whole heart.

**

When they get back home, Phil holds Clint back as his mother makes her way inside. 

“What?” Clint asks.

“Just this.” Phil kisses him, fully aware that they are standing in the middle of the driveway and that some of their nosy neighbors are hovering behind curtains. His feelings have been building ever since his realization about loving Clint, and while he isn’t ready to say that out loud, he needs to share this with Clint somehow.

They’re definitely putting on a bit of a show for the neighborhood, but Phil cannot let go of Clint, and Clint isn’t letting go, either.

Once they part, breathless and laughing, Clint brushes a hand over Phil’s cheek. “What brought that on?”

Phil shrugs. “The spirit of the holiday, I guess. I’m grateful to have you in my life.”

Clint tilts his head. “Uh-huh.” He presses another kiss to Phil’s lips. “That feeling is entirely mutual.”

**

“If I eat one more bite, I’m going to burst,” Clint announces at the end of dinner. 

They’ve made a rather good dent into the turkey and various side dishes. 

“Is it really Thanksgiving if you don’t feel that way?” Phil asks. 

Clint waves him off. “When is Jasper’s party again?”

“At 7pm,” Phil’s mom supplies. “Let’s get the table cleared and everything put away. Consider it a little exercise to get digestion going.”

All Phil wants is a food coma nap, but he manages to get up. It does help to move around. Dividing leftovers into containers, loading the dishwasher, and cleaning the kitchen go surprisingly fast when three people work together. 

They all settle on the couch, mugs of strong coffee in hand, and watch _A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving_.

**

Jasper’s house is filled with people when they arrive. As requested, they haven’t brought anything. Phil suspects that Jasper’s reason for that is quality control. Even though Phil was sure he wouldn’t want to eat much, his mouth waters when he sees the ample selection of desserts that is set out on various tables throughout the living area. There are the expected pies and tarts alongside cups of mousse and bowls of chocolates; there are even some savory offerings, including cheese puffs. From previous years, Phil knows that the real star is the hot chocolate bar, so he heads there first after sharing hugs with Jasper, Maria, and half of Jasper’s family.

Clint walks up to him and slides his hand into Phil’s. “There are a lot of people here.”

“Jasper’s house is the hub for all their family gatherings. Pretty much everyone in the extended family who is within half a day’s drive shows up. And then they all stay for the weekend.”

Clint surveys the crowd, including all the children under five. “Wow.”

“Jasper loves it.” 

Clint lets his head drop against Phil’s shoulder. “Can you make me a cup, too? There are too many options and I’m too tired to make such taxing decisions.”

“Sure. And then we can find a quiet corner.”

Phil steers them to the small sitting area off the dining room that many people avoid because it takes them too far away from center of the party. It has a fireplace and comfy chairs, and Phil is only too happy to sink into a plush chair and stretch his feet out toward the fire.

They drink their hot chocolates in silence until Maria shows up. “Thought I’d find you here.” She sits on the floor and leans back against Phil’s legs.

“How has your day been?” Phil asks.

“Eh, the usual, you know. You? How did the volunteering go?”

“It was good. Handing out mashed potatoes to that many people is harder than it looks.”

“Phil was a pro,” Clint adds in a much too generous assessment. “I’m glad we got to help many families have a nice meal today.” He shares a look with Phil, who knows that Clint must be thinking back to when it was him who’d get a Thanksgiving dinner that way.

Maria nods. “Any plans for tomorrow?”

“No, not really.” Phil tries to sound casual.

Maria turns around. ‘Your mom’s not dragging you to the outlet mall?”

“She’s going with a friend. Clint and I are just going to hang out at home.”

Maria looks at him, and then at Clint. She smirks. “Oh, I see.”

Phil tells himself to be cool. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“I think you do.”

Clint snickers. Phil tries to keep his composure.

“Are you blushing?” Maria asks. “Ok, now I really want to know what you have planned for tomorrow.”

Phil slouches down in the chair as if that magically made him invisible. “Argh, you are the worst.”

Maria pats his knee. “Aww, come on. You know I’m happy for you two. You deserve to have all the…fun.”

“The _fun_ will be epic,” Clint says.

Phil ignores both of them, and eventually the conversation moves on to Maria’s family’s Black Friday shopping plans. He remembers that Clint mentioned he wanted to look for a jacket, and Phil makes a mental note to remind him. It’s getting colder and Phil has already seen Clint shiver in the fleece in the mornings.

“Oh, look, it’s three of my favorite people!” Jasper calls out as he walks toward them holding a platter with bite-sized portions of various pies.

To Phil’s surprise, he finds that he has room for a few of them. “The pumpkin pie is amazing,” he mumbles as he chews.

“Why, thank you,” Jasper says.

Clint takes some apple pie. “This party is amazing. I’ve never even heard of a dessert party before.”

“It always seemed to me that dessert was an afterthought on Thanksgiving,” Jasper explains. “So I wanted to change that. Plus it’s a good way to get everyone to come to our house and we don’t have to go anywhere.” 

“Smart.” Maria picks up a piece of cranberry pecan tart. “So, any shopping plans for tomorrow?”

“Any plans, she asks.” Jasper takes out his phone. “I have a spreadsheet. We’re getting up at 4am and then…”

Phil leans back and lets the chatter wash over him.

**

The next morning, Clint shoots Phil heated glances all through breakfast, and Phil prays that his mom doesn’t realize what’s happening. She’s either oblivious or very polite, and leaves with a cheerful “Have a good day!”

Phil and Clint nearly stumble over their feet on the way upstairs. At first, Phil is all in on what’s happening: the way Clint is kissing him is shooting sparks throughout his body, and he loves the little sounds Clint makes, like he can’t get enough of Phil. 

But when Clint tugs Phil’s T-shirt out of his sweatpants, the thought of what they’ve planned looms large in his mind, and as Clint’s fingers curl around Phil’s cock in a lazy tug, nerves get the better of him. “Wait,” Phil blurts out.

Clint’s hand leaves Phil’s pants at lightning speed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Phil says, already feeling stupid about this. “Just…I don’t know, I’m not up for this right now.” Considering how hard he is, this must be confusing to Clint. Phil stares down at their socked feet.

“Hey, that’s totally cool.” Clint runs his hands over Phil’s chest and arms. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“But the house is empty and we said we’d—“

Clint gently draws Phil into a hug. “Doesn’t matter. It’ll happen or it won’t, it’s all good.”

“Okay.” Phil feels a little better. 

“I never wanna do anything with you when you’re not a thousand percent on board, okay?”

Phil nods against Clint’s shoulder.

Clint holds him until Phil lets go. When Phil looks at Clint, he only sees concern and understanding in his eyes. “I’m good,” Phil promises. “Really.”

“Do you want to read on the couch for a bit?” Clint asks.

That sounds perfect, and it fills Phil with warmth that Clint knew that something low-key and quiet is what Phil needs. “Yeah.”

Phil picks up his novel and Clint gets a comic from Phil’s collection. They make more coffee and settle on the couch, Clint’s toes tucked under Phil’s thigh.

They heat up leftovers for lunch and even bother to sit at the table instead of taking their food back to the couch.

“Have I ever told you about Natasha?” Clint asks as he digs into a mountain of mashed potatoes.

“No. Who’s she?”

“She was my best friend in Waverly. She was only there for the past two years, but we clicked right away.” Phil can relate to that; he and Clint gravitated toward one another from the moment they met. “Her parents sent her over from Russia to perfect her English, and Nat happened to have an aunt in Waverly, so that’s how she ended up there. She hated it.” Clint smiles. “I guess if you’re used to a city like St. Petersburg, Waverly seems like even more of a backwater town than it is. Anyway, I thought of her because she thought Thanksgiving was the weirdest thing, but she loved the food.”

“How could you not?” Phil asks as he takes a bite of green bean casserole.

“Fair point.” Clint reaches for his phone and scrolls through his pictures. “That’s her.”

A redhead smirks at the camera. She looks like the type of cool girl that would never give Phil the time of day. “She looks a little intimidating, to be honest.”

Clint laughs. “Oh, she’d love that. She kept most people at arm’s length, but when she let you in, you were all the way in.” A wistful expression comes over his face. “We kind of had a ‘us against the world’ thing going on.”

Phil pushes some turkey and cranberry sauce onto his fork. “You must miss her.” He wonders why Clint has never mentioned here before.

“Yeah, I do. She moved back to Russia around the same time I moved here, and she isn’t good about keeping in touch. Sometimes I’ll get a random pic of a sidewalk or clouds, but she’s not the type to check in and have long conversations.” Clint pours more gravy over his entire plate.

It sounds like they were close, and that their friendship came to a halt once they both moved. Phil tries to imagine not hearing from Maria or Jasper regularly anymore, and there’s a pang in his heart. “You should text her. Or email, or however you can reach her. Even if she isn’t good about keeping in touch, I’m sure she’d be happy to hear from you.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Clint flattens a piece of sweet potato.

“What time is it there now?” Phil takes out his phone and does a quick search. “It’s 10pm there. Sounds like a good time to send her a message.”

Clint wavers for a moment, then picks up his phone again. “Do you mind if I sent her the pic your mom took of us?’

“Not at all.”

Phil keeps eating as Clint types out a message. Clint picks up his fork and has managed one bite when his phone vibrates.

“She asks who the hottie is,” Clint says. “She likes your glasses in particular.”

Phil isn’t used to anyone thinking of him as hot or stylish, so he covers over his lack of a response by eating more turkey.

Clint types out a response. “I’m bragging about my hot boyfriend,” he explains.

Phil can’t hold back a smile. “You can tell her that I think you’re pretty hot, too.”

“I can do that.”

More messages get sent back and forth as they finish eating, and it makes Phil happy to see that Clint and Natasha seem to be picking up right where they left off.

“She’s going to bed, but we’re Facetiming tomorrow,” Clint announces.

“That’s awesome.”

“Yeah. Thanks for making me send her a message. Sometimes I get too into my head about reaching out to people.”

That’s true, but Clint has also gotten much better about that, at least with Phil. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’ll get to talk to her again.”

**

They take a nap after lunch.

When they wake up, there are sleepy kisses, clothes come off, and hands roam. Before Phil has time to overthink anything, he’s two fingers deep in Clint, who had enough presence of mind to check in with Phil at every step to make sure he was comfortable, but now is reduced to gasps and moans.

Even the smallest twist of Phil’s fingers calls forth a strong reaction in Clint: his hips twitch and his hand twists into the sheets. Whenever Phil looks up at Clint, he sees trust and adoration in his eyes. It’s addictive.

“C’mere.” Clint motions at Phil to come closer, and when Phil leans down, Clint wraps a hand around the back of his neck and kisses him. Phil’s fingers still because he only has coordination for so many things at once. “Needed a moment,” Clint mumbles.

“Really?” Phil is surprised; they haven’t been at this for too long.

“Hmm.” Clint brushes his lips against Phil’s. “I kinda forgot how good this is. And it’s you.”

Phil isn’t sure what to do with that. He’s just trying not to screw this up too badly and to make sure Clint feels good. “Anything I can do even better?” He mostly means it as a tease, but Clint looks at him with intent.

“Here,” he says, and then his hand lays on top of Phil. He adjusts the angle of Phil’s wrist. “Feel a little to the left, and up.”

Phil carefully rotates his fingers, pressing and searching—

“Oh, fuck, yes.” Clint’s eyes glaze over. His hand tightens of Phil’s, keeping him in place.

“Is that..?”

Clint laughs. “Sure is.”

Phil can feel it under his fingertips, and when he rubs over it again, a shudder runs through Clint’s entire body. Phil is fascinated that such a tiny movement can unravel Clint.

Clint’s grip on Phil’s hand eases up, and he sets Phil on a slow rhythm of in and out before letting his hand fall away entirely.

“Can you come like this?” Phil whispers.

It seems difficult for Clint to form words. “Maybe. Keep going.”

Phil can tell when Clint is getting close. His breathing turns into broken gasps and his hips roll in time with Phil’s fingers. 

“Don’t stop,” Clint pleads. “Don’t—don’t…” His fingers grasp his cock, moving over it in hard twists.

Phil’s wrist starts to hurt, but he keeps pushing into Clint.

A flush spreads over Clint, and for a second, he tenses up. His eyes slide closed and he comes with a long groan.

Phil eases his fingers out of Clint lest he cause him any discomfort. He wipes them on the sheet and waits while Clint rides out the afterglow. He wants to follow Clint there—Phil is achingly hard, and it would only take a few strokes to get himself off, but that seems like a weird thing to do. He’d much rather share that with Clint.

After a minute, Clint’s eyes open slowly.

“Welcome back,” Phil says.

Clint gives him a dopey smile. “That was fucking amazing.” He pulls Phil down on top of him for a lazy kiss. “Hm, you haven’t come yet.”  
Phil tries to shift away, but Clint’s hold tightens and he moves his legs so that Phil slides between them. Between the feel of the sticky come that Clint didn’t bother to wipe off and his soft cock nudging against Phil, it takes every ounce of Phil’s self-control not to press down and chase his own release.

“It’s okay,” Clint encourages. His hand slides down to Phil’s ass and squeezes.

Phil gives in. He bears down against Clint, desperate for friction. He hears the click of the lube, and then Clint finds a way to get his hand around Phil’s cock, nearly making Phil sob with how good it feels.

Phil lets his head drop forward onto Clint’s chest as all of his awareness zeroes in on trying to push into Clint’s tight grasp, over and over again, until all the tension explodes in a brilliant moment. 

“There you go,” Clint mumbles. 

Phil can’t hold himself up anymore. He lets Clint take his weight. Just for a minute. Clint’s fingers run through Phil’s hair, a repetitive and comforting motion. Clint’s other hand lies flat on the small of Phil’s back. 

Phil feels safe. He needs to hold on to that for the next time nerves get the better of him. Especially when they’re together like this, Clint has shown him time and again that he will be there for Phil, and that no matter what they end up doing together, it will be good, even if they fumble their way toward that goodness. 

Considering that in other areas of life, Phil is usually the one in charge of making sure everything goes smoothly, this is a new experience for him. He realizes that he wouldn’t mind giving up even more control to Clint. 

“You’re either about to fall asleep or you’re having way too many thoughts,” Clint observes.

“Just thinking about all this.” He gestures at the two of them.

“And where did those thoughts lead?”

Phil’s instinct is to hold back on sharing his new insights. To mull them over, and to pick out the right words, and possible rehearse what he wants to say. But he doesn’t need to do that with Clint. “Remember when you held my hands above my head yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“I really liked that. And just now...you looked so—like you were about to start levitating from how amazing you felt. I want to know what that’s like, so maybe you could put your fingers to some good use.” Phil swallows. “In me.”

Clint shifts them until they’re on their sides facing each other. “Really?” He looks surprised.

Phil nods. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“Oh, I want to.”

“But?”

“There isn’t really a ‘but.’” Clint pauses. “Most of the guys I’ve been with were pretty clear about who’s taking it up the ass and who doesn’t.”

Phil cringes at those words.

“Sorry, I could’ve put that better. There were some who were all about switching it up, but most of them…no.”

“And you thought that I’d be like that?”

“No, of course not.” Clint finds Phil’s hand. “I didn’t know if you’d want to try out different things. People like what they like, y’know?”

Phil doesn’t know what he likes because he’s never had sex with anyone before Clint, and to exclude certain things categorically sounds more like internalized homophobia than anything else to Phil. “I want to try different things. I might not want to jump into everything once, but I want to find out what works for both of us.”

Clint looks at him with fondness. “Got it.” Clint kisses him, soft and sweet, and pushes Phil onto his back. Clint takes a hold of Phil’s wrists and pushes his arms up over his head, but instead of pinning them to the mattress, he laces their fingers together. It’s a gentle hold, and it’s perfect. 

“Good?” Clint asks. Phil lets out a needy sound, and Clint nudges his nose against Phil’s. “Wanna keep going?”

“Yes.” Want flickers through Phil. He draws his legs up until they frame Clint’s hips. It brings more of Clint’s weight down on top of Phil. “I trust you. Make me come.”

Clint’s eyes widen, and he sweeps Phil up into another kiss.


	14. Operation Cowlick

“This seems really expensive, even with the 50% off,” Clint says as he scrolls through a page full of winter jackets.

They’re sitting under a blanket in Phil’s bed—their bed, really. Clint dragged them upstairs after dinner, explaining that Phil’s mom deserved the living room to herself. “It doesn’t seem that much to me,” Phil says slowly, aware that his idea of “expensive” differs from Clint’s. “And you don’t want to get the cheapest one because then you probably have to buy another one next year or it’s not warm enough.”

Clint dithers. “I’m not used to spending that much on one thing.”

“You need that jacket,” Phil says softly. “I’ve seen you shiver before and after school.”

“I know.” Clint sighs. “You really don’t think this is too much?”

“It’s a really good deal.” Phil’s winter jacket was twice that much.

“Okay. Maybe this one? Too bad it doesn’t come in purple.”

Phil smiles. If Clint had his way, half of his clothes would be purple. “I think the light blue would look great on you. And if you don’t like it or it doesn’t fit, they have free exchanges and returns.”

Clint adds the jacket to his cart and checks out. He closes the laptop as soon as the order has processed. “Ugh, that was so much money.” He slumps against Phil.

“Do you want to watch something with many explosions and ridiculous plot twists to take your mind off that?”

“Sounds perfect.”

** 

They hit the ground running after the respite of Thanksgiving break. It almost seems like all the teachers want to make up for the half week they lost. 

On Thursday, Phil rounds the corner to the hallway that leads to Clint’s locker. When he sees Clint and Rumlow glaring at each other, he stops in his tracks.

“Get the fuck away from me,” Clint yells.

Rumlow gives him a smug look and saunters toward the cafeteria.

Clint turns to face his locker. His hands ball into fists. He looks furious.

“What was that all about?” Phil asks when he reaches Clint.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Clint bites out.

Phil has had his own run-ins with Rumlow before, but for the past few months, he’s been laying low, and Phil thought he might have discovered some decency for his senior year. Apparently not. “Okay. Do you want to go to lunch?”

“I’m not hungry.” Clint opens his locker and takes out his Physics textbook. “I’ll get started on homework.”

Phil doesn’t buy this explanation; Clint is always hungry by the time lunch rolls around. “Let me get you a sandwich, at least? I’ll smuggle it into the library.”

Some of the anger drains out of Clint. “Yeah, alright.”

Phil wants to draw Clint into a hug or offer some other comfort, but he senses that it wouldn’t be welcome. Later, then. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“Thanks.” Clint walks off toward the library.

**

“Fucking Rumlow,” Phil mutters as he sits down with Jasper and Maria.

“What has he done now?” Maria asks.

Jasper adds, “Let me guess: A, threatened a freshman with violence for looking at him the wrong way, B, made inappropriate remarks to a cheerleader, or C, threw a hissy fit when he got called out for not doing any homework again. Or D, all of the above.”

“Good guesses,” Phil acknowledges. “But no. He said something to Clint, and it was so bad that Clint was about a second away from punching him in the face. Rumlow walked away, probably because he knew that he’d lose that fight.”

“He is such an asshole,” Maria says. “Hey, wasn’t Clint going to eat with us?”

“Clint’s in the library. He said he wasn’t hungry, but…” Phil sets down his fork, his appetite gone. “I think he needed some time to process what happened.”

“Did you catch what Rumlow said?” Jasper asks.

“No, I got there too late.”

Maria huffs. “Probably something offensive and demeaning, and it sounds like it hit home.”

Phil nods. “I’ll try to talk to Clint later.” He hopes Clint will share what happened and not think that he has to wrestle with it by himself.

“This calls for a strategic intervention,” Jasper says. “That dude has had free reign for far too long.”

“I like this idea.” Maria twirls her knife.

They are right. Enough is enough. “What’s the plan?”

**

Phil finds Clint in their usual spot in the library. He sits down next to him and slides the sandwich over.

Clint’s stomach rumbles. “Thank you.”

Phil can tell that Clint tries not to eat the entire thing in four bites. “Did you make some headway with your homework?”

Clint nods as he’s chewing.

“You have a big test coming up next week, right?”

“Yeah.” Clint’s eyes stay on the sandwich.

“Jasper and I have a—”

“You don’t have to stay here watching me eat,” Clint says. “I know you have class in ten minutes.”

Phil tries not to take that comment too personally. It’s clear that the run-in with Rumlow still bothers him, and for too long in Clint’s life, pushing people away was his way of protecting himself. And yet, Clint’s dismissal still stings. 

Phil stands. “See you in History.”

“Yup.”

For the rest of the day, Phil’s thoughts stray to Clint. He knows that Clint will snap out of his funk, but they’re usually so close that this active withdrawal makes Phil uneasy. He tries to focus on the various lessons, but it’s a challenge, especially when Clint doesn’t say a word during History despite being a regular participant on other days.

The ride home is mostly silent, too. They only discuss the dinner plans that Phil’s mom had texted about.

When they’re home, Clint says, “I got most of my homework done during my free period, so I’ll head upstairs for a bit.” The unspoken ‘by myself’ is strongly implied.

“Okay. I’ll be down here if you need me.” Phil feels compelled to state that out loud even though Clint knows that Phil will be studying at the dining room table.

Phil has enough on his plate that he eventually loses himself in his work.

His mom comes home a couple of hours later, and Phil gets up to help with unpacking the groceries.

“Did Clint go out?” She asks.

“He’s upstairs. Something happened at school that wasn’t great. He needed some time to himself.” Phil puts boxes of cereal and granola into a cabinet.

“Is this something I should know about?” She leaves some vegetables out on the counter and puts the rest in the fridge.

“No. Just…people saying stupid things.”

“Okay. But let me know if this gets any worse?” She pulls out a cutting board.

“I will.” 

“Good.” She hands him a knife. “Now start chopping these peppers.”

**

When dinner is almost ready, Phil sends Clint a text to signal that he’s coming upstairs. Clint replies with a thumbs up.

The only light in Phil’s room comes from the small lamp next to the bed. Clint is lying on top of the comforter facing away from the door, a blanket tucked tightly around him.

Phil changes out of his school clothes into sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. It gives Clint a moment to get used to Phil’s presence in the room.

Phil sits down on the bed. “Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay.”

Phil places his hand on Clint’s shoulder, prepared for Clint to shy away from the touch. He doesn’t. “Any chance there’s room for me in that blanket burrito?”

Clint untangles one corner of the blanket and Phil slides under it, stretching out behind Clint. He props himself up so he can see Clint’s face. “Feel any better?”

Clint draws in a breath and lets it out. “Not really.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

“It’s so stupid,” Clint begins. “And I know that what he said is BS and I shouldn’t let it get to me.” He leans back against Phil, shifting until their bodies align more fully. 

“What did he say?”

“That my parents deserved what happened to them. That I’m just a piece of white trash who is lucky that someone’s sorry enough for him to take him in.”

That fucking asshole. Phil has never hated someone more.

“And he made sure to point out that I’m just a charity case for you and that if I wasn’t such a, quote, hot piece of ass, you’d never bother with me.”

“You know that that’s not true, right? None of it.”

“I do. My brain knows that, but…” 

Phil wraps an arm around Clint. He’s glad when Clint lays his own arm over Phil’s and clasps their hands together. “You’re an amazing person, and Rumlow can go to hell. He doesn’t know you at all.”

Clint remains quiet for a long moment. “I’ve heard some of those things before. Some I’ve heard my whole life. It’s hard to shrug that off.”

Phil closes his eyes and takes a moment to hold Clint tight. He’s had some things thrown at him—mostly about what a nerd he is—but nothing that is so personal and cuts so close. He feels helpless in the face of that. What could he possibly say that could begin to undo a lifetime of hurt?

Of course there is one thing. 

But is this the right moment? 

Phil decides he needs to risk it.

“Look at me?” He asks softly. Clint rolls onto his back. He looks so tired. “None of what people have said to you is true. I’ll tell you that a million times if I need to. And—“ Phil’s heart beats faster. “I’m so lucky that I found you. That you’re in my life. That you want to be with me. And I—I love you. So much.”

Clint stares at him for long enough that Phil worries about having read the whole situation wrong and having made it infinitely worse by what he said. 

Then Clint blinks and draws Phil into a kiss that’s messy and uncoordinated but full of feelings. “Me too,” he says, voice cracking. “I didn’t know how to tell you, or if I should because I wasn’t sure that you’d…but I’ve known for a while, and fuck.” He wipes the back of his hand over his eyes.

Phil kisses Clint’s cheek and nuzzles his neck. He lies down, half on top of Clint. Relief floods him—relief that he told Clint, that Clint feels the same way, and that it is something that Clint can hold on to when he needs to. Phil has faced the world differently since he got together with Clint. He knows he can reach out and Clint will be there, both in a literal and a metaphorical sense. Clint has his back, no questions asked.

**

Operation Cowlick starts during movie night on Friday. Clint is at work, and instead of watching a movie, Jasper, Maria, and Phil huddle around the coffee table to hash out their plan. Phil gets his laptop and sets up a spreadsheet with email addresses, notes, and a timeline. By the end of the night, everyone has their assignment. Rumlow will never see it coming.

Over the coming week, the operation unfolds smoothly. A few dropped hints here, a chain of emails there, a conversation meant to be overheard, and finally, the letter to Principal Koenig. The confirmation that Operation Cowlick is a success lands in Phil’s inbox on Friday afternoon. 

“You’re not working tomorrow evening, right?” Phil asks Clint, who is lounging next to him on the couch.

“No, why?”

“It’s the last home game of the year, and it’s a bit of a tradition that we go.” That’s a little white lie, but it is for a good cause. “I can promise you a blanket and apple cider.”

A soft smiles spreads over Clint’s face as he most certainly flashes back to their non-date date at Homecoming. “Yeah, okay. But only if you cuddle me under that blanket.”

Phil rubs the top of Clint’s feet, which rest in his lap. “That goes without saying.”

**

On Saturday, Jasper leads their little group towards the lower half of the bleachers.

“I thought you always sat near the top?” Clint asks Phil.

“We do, but the wind chill later will be fierce, so having a few more people around us will help with that.” Which is true, but also, they all want an excellent view of their op’s magnificent ending.

They settle in, and the usual pre-game activities unfold: marching band, cheerleading squad, general excitement.

Just before kick-off, Principal Koenig steps on the field with a microphone. “Good afternoon, everyone, I know we are all eager to start this last game of the year, but indulge me for a few minutes. It is for an excellent reason, I promise.” He takes out a sheet of notes and glances at it. “As you know, we have been without a volunteer for our mascot for a while. But the wait is now over.” He pauses dramatically. “A new Betty the Cow has been found!”

Surprised whispers rise up from the crowd.

Clint leans close to Phil. “Uh, what’s the deal with that mascot?”

Phil smiles. “You’ll see.” He looks over at Rumlow, who is joking around with this friends.

Koenig gestures at everyone to quiet down. “I know, I know, it is very exciting! I was a little surprised by who our volunteer is, but I have it on good authority from numerous people that he has longed for this role, a longing which was also evident in the moving letter he wrote to me personally about what it would mean to him to take over the mantle of Betty, which has been handed down through generations of students—“

Clint tugs at Phil’s arm. “Wait, how old is this mascot?”

“Oh, I believe it is made out of the finest 1970s polyester.”

Clint wrinkles his nose, and Phil smiles serenely.

“—to be once again embodied by someone who will fulfill this duty with the utmost dignity.”

Jasper masks a loud snort with a cough.

“Well, you have all waited long enough. It is my udder joy—“ He pauses to let the pun land, “to announce that the newest Betty the Cow is…Brock Rumlow!”

After a moment of silence, the crowd erupts into laughter and wolf whistles, with a few polite claps mixed in.

Rumlow looks confused and mortified. 

Jasper, Maria, and Phil discreetly high-five each other, and Clint looks at them, then looks at Phil. “Wait, that was you? Holy shit!”

“Something had to be done,” Jasper says.

Koenig eagerly waves at Rumlow. “Brock, why don’t you come on down and collect your costume. We can’t wait to see you at halftime!” 

A woman walks out onto the field with a costume that has clearly seen better days. Koenig steps toward her. “Everyone, please welcome Annie Hatsfield, proud former Betty, class of 1998!”

The woman smiles and waves. Rumlow reluctantly walks down from the bleachers and collects the costume.

“But why does he even go along with it?” Clint asks.

Maria replies, “Rumlow’s been a thorn in Koenig’s side for three years and has come close to getting kicked out a few times, so he has to stay on his good side. If Rumlow made claims of a conspiracy against him, it would not go over well with Koenig.”

“That is genius,” Clint says. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Jasper says.

Turning to Phil, Clint asks, “Did you come up with this?”

“It was a group effort. But it was important to me that we got back at Rumlow somehow after he was such an asshole to you.”

“Thanks,” Clint mumbles. He curls a hand around the back of Phil’s neck and kisses him. “Love you,” he whispers into Phil’s ear and brushes another kiss against his cheek.

Phil finds Clint’s hand under the blanket and squeezes it in acknowledgment. 

They huddle under the blanket and drink cider as the game goes on. At half time, as promised, Betty the Cow makes an appearance.

“Wow,” Clint says as Rumlow circles the field at a light jog. Half the school has their phones out to capture the moment. “The phrase ‘udder joy’ takes on a whole new meaning.”

Phil grins. “Sure does.” He may have to come to more games in the future just to bask in Rumlow’s humiliation.

There were a few times over the past week when Phil wondered whether he was crossing any lines by using his many connections at school to pull this off, but seeing Clint relaxed and happy for the first time since his run-in with Rumlow makes it all worth it. Besides, it’s not like anything aside from Rumlow’s pride got hurt. 

Phil wraps an arm around Clint and enjoys the feeling of a well-executed mission.

**

Later that night, when they’re curled up in bed together, Phil decides that he should officially ask Clint to go to Winter Formal with him. It’s obvious that Clint will go now that he’s more firmly part of the school and of their friend group, but Phil likes the tradition of asking someone to go to a dance. 

As they lie facing each other, Phil reaches for Clint’s hand. “So, you know that Winter Formal is coming up, and I wanted to ask if you’d like to go with me?”

Clint looks surprised. His eyes dart away. “Thanks, but I, um, wasn’t planning on going.”

Phil feels blindsided. He was certain that Clint would go—after all, they’ve chatted about the dance during lunch breaks, and Phil has complained about all the work to Clint. Sure, Clint never explicitly stated that he would go, but Phil took that as tacit agreement. “You’re not?”

Clint lets go of Phil’s hand and rolls onto his back. “It’s just not my thing. The whole dressing up all fancy and going all out for the night…that’s not me.”

“Okay.” Phil doesn’t know what else to say. He accepts and respects Clint’s feelings on the matter, but he’s disappointed. He was looking forward to dressing up and taking Clint out for a fun night.

“Are you mad at me?” Clint asks softly.

Phil props himself up. “No. I was hoping we’d go together, but I can understand that you don’t want to.” Those words sound so formal and diplomatic and yet Phil knows that Clint can hear the disappointment in every one of them.

Clint takes a long look at Phil. “I’m sorry.”

Clint’s apology makes Phil feel worse. In the grand scheme of things, this dance isn’t that important, and Clint has had to deal with a lot recently, so it makes perfect sense that Winter Formal isn’t a priority for him. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m a little disappointed, that’s all.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Phil realizes that Clint will hear that he disappointed Phil, and not that Phil is disappointed they won’t get to share the dance. 

Sure enough, Clint shifts away from Phil, closer to the wall, and tugs the comforter up to his nose.

“I meant I’m disappointed that we won’t get to go together,” Phil clarifies. “Not that you did anything to disappoint me. Never that.”

Clint looks at him, searching Phil’s face, then nods. “Want me to be the big spoon?”

Phil understands the gesture for what it is—an affirmation that things are still okay between them, and also an offer of providing some comfort. Phil gladly turns on his side and sinks back into Clint’s warmth.


	15. Winter Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra-long chapter today in which Phil and Clint explore some new territory together...

Even though they went to sleep with a sense of reconciliation, things remain weird during the coming week. Phil is drowning in prep work for the dance, but feels like he can’t complain to Clint about it the way he did before, and Clint clearly has some annoying experiences at work, but also doesn’t go into them. On top of that, they each have big assignments due for several classes. It almost feels like they’re living parallel lives, and they fall into bed exhausted every night.

Phil is grateful that his mom doesn’t insist on talking about the tension she notices between them, but instead pulls him into a hug and tells him that all couples go through rough patches and they’ll be fine in the end.

On Saturday, Clint leaves early for a double shift, and Phil is almost grateful for it even though he normally hates it when Clint is gone for an entire Saturday. 

Jasper and Maria come to pick him up for the dance, and because they are the best friends, they bring him his favorite donuts. Phil loves them for it, especially Jasper, who had to go against all of his foodie principles to buy the donuts at the gas station.

**

The gym looks festive with big cut-out snowflakes dangling from the ceiling, actual fir trees scattered here and there, and blue-white light evoking a winter evening. Phil is proud of the work they have put into creating this dance, and for a while, that’s enough for him to enjoy being there. 

Soon his thoughts drift back to Clint, especially when Maria disappears with Amy to explore the “super casual thing” (Maria’s words) they’ve got going on, and Jasper gets sucked into a debate about dairy farming practices. Once 9pm rolls around and Phil knows Clint is back from work, he just wants to go home.

Phil texts Maria and walks over to Jasper. He waits until Jasper has finished making his latest point, and then taps him on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m going home.”

“Already?”

“Yeah. It’s just…” Phil shrugs.

“Clint,” Jasper fills in.

Phil nods.

“Let me drive you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can call my mom.”

Jasper gives him a look. “What are you, ten? No. I’m giving you a ride. I was done with this conversation anyway.”

Phil is glad that Jasper is so insistent. It would have been a tad embarrassing to have his mom come and pick him up. On the way back, they stop at Culver’s because Jasper insists on treating Phil to a milkshake to cheer him up. The drive-through is packed, and it takes twenty minutes until they are on the road again. The milkshake does help to lift Phil’s spirit.

Back at his house, Phil lingers on the doorstep. He wanted to be back home, but he also doesn’t want more of the weirdness between him and Clint.

Standing outside won’t help with that, though. They’ll have to talk it through.

Determined, Phil unlocks the door. “Hello!” He unbuttons his coat.

“Hi!” Clint calls out.

Phil expected his mom’s voice, but maybe they’re watching a movie together. He hangs up his coat and unties his shoes.

He stops in his tracks as soon as he steps into the living room. Clint was apparently waiting for Phil, dressed in his best jeans and a nice shirt that Phil has never seen before. The coffee table has been pushed aside, leaving an open space in the middle of the room. Strings of Christmas lights weave over curtain rods and picture frames. There are candles on various tables.

“What—what is all this?” Phil asks. 

Clint takes a step toward him. “It’s to make up for not being at the dance.” He holds out his hand, and Phil takes it. “I had a talk with Maria and that made a few things clearer. Like, how much this dance means to you.” Clint motions Phil closer and wraps his arms around Phil’s waist. “I didn’t quite realize that. And also…” He pauses. “I also realized that I don’t like these dances because I never felt like I belonged there. Or could belong there. I never had anyone to go with, or clothes to wear, and I thought it’d just be stiff and awkward. But Maria assured me that not everyone turns into Mr. Fancy Suit.” He gives Phil’s bowtie a little tug. ”And she showed me some photos from Homecoming and it looked fun. Anyway, what I’m saying is, maybe I should have gone. And I would very much like to dance with you now.” Clint looks at Phil with a shy smile.

“I’d love that,” Phil says, surprised and relieved. He owes Maria a huge favor. “And you belong at the dance, just like anyone else at school.”

Clint ducks his head. “I get that now.”

Phil looks around the room again. “When did you do all this?”

“After I got back from work. Your mom helped. She’s upstairs, by the way.”

Phil owes his mom, too. 

Clint crosses the room to his phone, which is hooked up to a speaker. He starts a playlist.

The song that comes on is the one they listened to the first time Phil gave Clint a ride home. It feels longer than three months ago. So much has happened to them since then. 

Clint runs his hands up Phil’s chest, hands skimming under the lapels of his suit. “You look really good in this, by the way.”

Phil smiles. “You look really good, too. I don’t recognize the shirt.” 

“It’s new. Figured I should probably have a nice shirt, and this was a good reason.”

Knowing Clint’s relationship to money, Phil is a little stunned that Clint would buy a new shirt just for this—for a dance in the living room. It’s humbling. It’s also a sign of how serious Clint takes their relationship. After the rocky week they’ve had, Phil feels like they’ve been set back on a steady course. “You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.” He loops his arms around Clint’s neck. “Shall we dance?”

Clint wraps his arms around Phil’s waist and leans in close enough for their cheeks to touch. They start swaying to the music.

Phil closes his eyes so he can only focus on Clint. It feels good to have him close. They barely touched in the last few days, and Phil missed the easy affection between them. He runs his fingers over the back of Clint’s neck, and he can feel the warmth from Clint’s hand where it has snuck under Phil’s suit jacket.

They dance to another song. Clint’s head comes to rest on Phil’s shoulder, and Phil’s hands slide down to Clint’s waist. They are more or less shuffling in place while holding on to each other, but neither seems to mind. 

When the third song starts, Clint lifts his head. His hand frames Phil’s cheek and his eyes seek permission for something that’s usually easy and without thought between them. Phil nods, and Clint’s lips press to his, soft and careful at first, then bolder and with more intent. Their kiss tips over into something heated, and Phil becomes very aware that they haven’t been this close in over a week.

Clint pulls away. “So, um, your mom made sure to point out that she was going to watch a very long movie with headphones on, so do you maybe want to take this upstairs?”

Bless his mom. “God yes.”

Clint has the presence of mind to turn off the music and blow out the candles before they rush upstairs. Phil has enough awareness not to leave his suit in a heap on the floor, but he can only tear himself away from Clint long enough to drape it over the back of his desk chair. Clint’s clothes stay wherever they fall.

They get into bed and make out for a while, reveling in each other after what feels like too long. 

“What do you wanna do?” Clint asks. “Just this, or something more?”

_Everything. I want everything_. It’s a sudden and powerful want. “When you bought lube, you bought condoms, too, right?”

Desire flares in Clint’s eyes. “I did. Does that mean you want—“

“Yes.” He kisses Clint. “Unless….”

“Nope. No objections. Shit.” Clint sits up and reaches for the wooden box to take out lube and condoms. “I got a few different kinds, so we can see what works.” Then he stretches out on his back. “C’mon, get to work,” he says with a grin.

Phil laughs. “At your service.” He picks up the lube.

They’ve done this part often enough that Phil knows exactly how to touch Clint. He knows to give Clint’s cock a few light strokes as he works the first finger into him, and he can tell the exact moment when Clint gets really into this—usually when Phil has two fingers in him. There’s a flush that spreads down Clint’s chest, and his hips roll with Phil’s movements. Phil figures another finger is probably a good idea tonight, and when he pushes it in alongside the others, Clint gasps. Phil stills, but Clint grasps his wrist and pushes his fingers deeper. Phil keeps going, watching Clint’s face go slack with pleasure. 

“Okay, stop, stop,” Clint calls out. “Getting too close.”

Phil looks at the assortment of condoms. “Um, a little help here?”

Clint picks one out for him. “Try this.” 

Phil fumbles with the packaging because his fingers are slippery and maybe he’s shaking a little, so Clint takes it from him. “Here, let me.” His hands are steady and Phil watches as he rolls the condom on. “Yeah, that’s gonna work.” He looks at Phil. “Ready?”

Phil nods. There are butterflies in his stomach.

Clint lies back down and draws his legs up. “Go slow. I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Got it.” He shuffles closer, and has a moment of wondering about what if he slides right off or misses somehow or hurts Clint or—

Clint’s hand comes to rest on Phil’s side. “Just breathe.”

“Right.” Phil wraps shaky fingers around his cock for better aim and pushes forward, heart hammering in his chest, and Clint opens for him so easily and then there’s heat and pressure and _oh shit_.

Clint’s hand tightens against Phil’s hip. “Okay, a little more.”

They work together as Phil inches forward, slow and steady, and then he bottoms out. “Fuck,” he bites out.

“That’s the idea,” Clint murmurs and slides his hands up Phil’s back to his shoulders. “You feel really good.”

“Not too much?” Phil feels shaky all over. 

Clint rolls his hips and sighs. “Perfect.”

Phil pulls out a little and pushes back in. It’s fucking amazing, and he can already sense a tingle in his gut. He tries to clamp down on it.

“Keep going.” Clint groans as Phil puts a little more force into this next stroke. “Like that.” One of his hands moves down to Phil’s ass; it helps to get into a rhythm.

Phil grits his teeth because he is so close already and he can’t stop himself from tumbling closer. Clint is makes desperate little noises, and there’s a blissed-out look on his face. “Sorry, I’m—” Phil groans, his hips snap forward, and he comes. 

For a brief moment, everything is perfect. Stars dance behind Phil’s eyelids.

Then utter embarrassment sets in. Hs finds himself sprawled over Clint, face tucked into his shoulder. He can feel how hard Clint is. 

Clint’s fingers weave through Phil’s hair. “You still with me? Can you move? You’re kinda heavy.”

Great, now he is also crushing Clint. “Sorry.” Phil lifts up onto his elbows and tries to get his knees under him. He slips out of Clint, who tenses for a moment. Fuck. Phil struggles to get the condom off.

Clint holds out a tissue. “Tie a knot in the top, then wrap it up.”

Phil manages after a few tries and drops the folded-up tissue on the floor. He feels lousy. He can hear Clint move, then senses warmth behind him. An arm comes over his shoulder and across his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” Clint asks. He kisses Phil’s shoulder.

“Sorry that I ruined this.” 

“What? You didn’t ruin anything.”

Phil begs to differ. “I came in like two minutes.”

“So? You were into it. I was into it.”

“Yeah, but…” Is Clint really going to make him spell this out? “It was over way too fast, and you didn’t even get to come.”

Clint wraps his other arm around Phil and pulls him closer. “That’s okay. That’s just how things go sometimes. And we can try again in a little while, or we can do something else, or we can go to sleep.”

Clint is far too nice about this. Not that Phil is surprised because that’s how Clint is. “I still feel like a failure.”

Clint kisses his neck. “Not a failure. We’ll figure this out together.” He kisses the shell of Phil’s ear. “You made me feel amazing. I’ve wanted this with you for so long, and I have no regrets.”

“Really?”

“Promise.”

Phil turns around enough so he can look at Clint. There’s no trace of disappointment, only care and encouragement. He leans in for a kiss, which confirms what he saw in Clint’s face: affirmation, and closeness, and love.

“C’mon.” Clint pulls Phil with him as he lies down. They wrap the comforter around each other. “Let’s just take a moment and see what happens.”

**

What happens is that they fall asleep. When Phil wakes up at 2am, he’s alone. His eyes burn because he forgot to take his contacts out. The sheets next to him are cold, and he wonders where Clint has gone. He’s just about to get up to look for Clint when he comes back, now dressed in pajamas.

“Hey, you woke up, too.” Clint climbs back into bed. “Just took a quick shower because things were feeling kind of squishy in my ass from all the lube and that is not a good feeling.”

Phil makes a face. He can see how that would be unpleasant. “But you’re good? About everything?”

“Still no regrets.” 

Phil starts to believe it. For those two minutes, Phil felt incredible, and he could see that Clint felt the same way. They just need to figure out how to make that last.

**

Phil catches Maria alone before the GSA meeting. He sits down next to her on the desk at the front of classroom. “I wanted to say thanks for talking to Clint about the dance. Did you know that he decorated the living room and was waiting for me so we could dance together?”

“Jasper and I both knew. We brainstormed with Clint.” She looks pleased with herself.

Phil smiles. “I had no idea.” He likes to think that he knows his friends well enough to suspect when they hide something, but he appears to be wrong. 

“Did you have a good time?” Then she laughs. “Oh, never mind, I can see on your face that you did. Aww. Someone has it _bad_.”

Phil nudges her shoulder. “Oh, shut up.” He leans against her. “But yeah, I do.”

“Good. You deserve it. You both do.”

“Thank you.” For a brief moment, he considers telling her about what else happened that night, but he still feels out of sorts about it, and he doesn’t want to lay out his sex life in that much detail. Maybe he’ll tell her in general terms once he and Clint get the hang of it. “Anyway, I owe you big time.”

“Hmm, are you sure you want to promise that? I’ll probably take you up on that for Model UN drills.”

Phil hates those even though he understands how important they are. “That works for me.”

“I’ll remind you of that when January rolls around.” 

“Fair enough.” Phil slides off the desk. “Ok, let’s get started with rearranging chairs for the meeting.”

Maria mock-salutes him and they get to work.

** 

“Don’t forget that I’m taking the afternoon off to go Christmas shopping with Maggie and Liza and then I’m going straight to the office Christmas party,” Phil’s mom says at breakfast on Wednesday. “So I won’t be home until after dinner.”

“Got it,” Phil mumbles into his coffee.

“Hmm, okay.” Clint mechanically chews on a piece of toast.

They were both up too late last night. When Clint came home from working the late shift, Phil was still wrestling with his Government presentation, and Clint decided to tackle his latest Physics problem set instead of getting up at 4am to finish it.

On the drive to school, Clint interrupts Phil’s latest presentation practice run. “Wait, did I hear your mom correctly and she said she’s gone for most of the afternoon and evening?”

“Uh-huh.” Phil looks down at his note cards, pondering if he should switch #5 and #6. 

Clint turns into the school parking lot. “So that means we have the house to ourselves….”

“Right, so?” 

Clint gives him an indulgent look. “Ok, I know you have that presentation today, but please put two and two together.” He pulls into a parking spot and turns the engine off. 

Phil has been consumed by this presentation and honestly can’t think beyond that. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Sure.” Clint draws Phil close and kisses him, languid and with tongue, until Phil melts into Clint’s hold. “For good luck. Not that you need it. You’ll be amazing.”

Phil tries holds on to the ease that came with the kiss. “Thank you. See you at lunch?”

“Of course.”

They step out of the car, and all the tension creeps back into Phil’s mind. 

**

The presentation goes well, and Phil takes it easy during study group. He makes quick work of his homework and then catches up on his favorite comics review site. His thoughts also drift back to the conversation he had with Clint earlier, and it takes him all of five seconds to get what Clint was hinting at. 

“You were talking about a do-over from last Saturday,” Phil says as soon as they are out of earshot of anyone in the parking lot. 

“Kinda, yeah. Seems like a good opportunity to revisit that. Empty house, no one to hear us, lots of time…”

Anticipation twists through Phil’s gut. “I’m game.”

Clint takes Phil’s hand. “No pressure, though. Let’s just do some exploring.”

Phil likes that idea. “Exploring sounds good.”

**

After they get home, they dance around each other awkwardly—putting away their backpacks and books, even unloading the dishwasher—until Clint mutters, “this is stupid,” backs Phil against the kitchen counter, and kisses the hell out of him.

In just a few minutes, Phil is worked up enough to have sex on the kitchen floor, so he hustles Clint upstairs. They strip each other of their clothes, yank the comforter off the bed, and continue to make out.

“Okay, okay, quick time-out,” Clint pleads. 

Phil blinks at him.

Clint gently pushes Phil onto this back. “I was thinking…let me make you come, and then everything will feel less urgent later. Okay?”

“Good plan,” Phil agrees. They have time, after all.

Clint smiles at him and kisses his way down Phil’s chest and the non-ticklish part of his side, then pushes Phil’s legs apart. 

When Clint’s lips close around the head of Phil’s cock and slide down, Phil’s breath stutters. The plush warmth of Clint’s mouth is incredible, and his tongue exerts just the right pressure. 

Phil reaches for Clint’s shoulder and squeezes it in encouragement. He notices that Clint’s eyes are closed, lost to the task and the pleasure of it.

“So good,” Phil murmurs.

Clint pulls off for a moment. “Yeah?” His hand twists up and down Phil’s cock.

Phil nods, and Clint bends back down, and all Phil can do is hang on. Clint uses his lips and tongue and hand to take Phil apart. Phil whines and pleads for “more” and “yes” and “holy shit.” 

When Phil is just about ready to explode from tension, Clint thumbs over his balls to the skin behind them and down to Phil’s hole, all light, gentle touches, and Phil loses it because Clint is so careful with him, like always, and opens up this whole new way of feeling and knowing his body. All Phil wants is for Clint to keep going.

Clint’s thumb keeps drawing soft circles, and his mouth and tongue work Phil over in a steady rhythm, and Phil nearly sobs from the intensity of it all. He barely even notices when he comes because he’s been suspended in a state of bliss.

Phil’s eyes close and he tries to get air into his lungs. He can feel Clint settle next to him, and the gentle sweep of his fingertips across Phil’s chest help him to calm down.

“Did I render you speechless?” Clint asks.

“Hmmm.”

Clint laughs. “Good. That was fun.” He kisses Phil’s cheek. “You were really into it. All of it, even that bit at the end.” 

Phil opens his eyes. “I loved it.”

“Yeah?” Clint asks in that soft way of his, when he can’t quite believe that Phil really feels that way about something.

“It was so fucking good.” 

Clint smiles. “It can be even better.”

“You’ll have to show me.”

Clint nudges his nose against Phil’s and kisses the corner of his mouth. “You’re incredible.”

That’s far too much praise, but Phil can agree that they’re pretty incredible together. 

They fall into companionable silence. It’s nice not to rush to clean up and get dressed right away. They still have hours until his mom returns.

Phil stretches and runs a hand down his stomach, surprised when he doesn’t find a sticky mess there. “Wait, did you swallow?”

Clint raises his head up from Phil’s chest. “Yeah?”

“Isn’t that…” Phil waves his hand. “Gross?”

“Eh, you were basically down my throat, so it wasn’t a big deal.”

That mental image is enough to send a renewed spark through Phil. They are absolutely doing this again asap, and then Phil will hold on to enough brain power to watch Clint swallow him down.

Something else occurs to him. “Is that why you haven’t kissed me yet?”

“Well, I didn’t want to impose my dick-breath on you. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that.”

Phil isn’t sure about that either. “That’s what the mints are for.” He gestures toward the shelf behind them.

Clint grins and reaches for them. He crunches two of them, face twisting as the mint hits him, and then kisses Phil with abandon. The heat of that kiss fades into longer, slower kisses that still steal Phil’s breath away.

When Phil wraps a hand around Clint’s cock, which has been insistently nudging against Phil’s hip as they have been kissing, he gets five strokes in before Clint pries his fingers off.

“Gonna make me come,” he mumbles. 

“That’s kind of the idea.” Phil smiles into their next kiss.

Clint pulls away just far enough to whisper, “Wanna wait ‘till you fuck me.”

Phil shivers. His cock twitches, hardening. “Let me get you ready.” He pulls the lube and condoms closer. 

“Can you manage if we stay like this?” 

They’re on their sides, and Clint hooks a leg over Phil’s hip. “Should be fine,” Phil answers and gets to work.

It’s a whole new experience having Clint this close while they’re doing this. Phil normally has a good read on his reactions, but now he can see every minute change on Clint’s face, can hear the slightest change in his breathing, can feel Clint’s fingers dig into his shoulder. There’s that moment again when Clint begins to flow with the rhythm of Phil’s fingers, and the muscles of his thigh tense and release where it’s slung over Phil’s side.

“One day I’ll get you off like this,” Phil says.

“Won’t—ahh—won’t take much more than—fuck, god, don’t stop.” 

Phil slowly draws his fingers out of Clint. “That probably means I should stop.”

Clint whines, but nods. He flops onto his back and gives his cock a few lazy tugs. Phil never thought he’d think of the word “debauched” in the context of his own life, but that’s what Clint looks like. And they haven’t even gotten to the main event yet.

“Do you want to stay like that, or try something else?” Phil asks. He manages to tear open the condom on his third try.

Clint props himself up on his elbows. “I have an idea. Sit up against the pillows.”

They rearrange themselves. Clint swings a leg over Phil’s lap and sits on his thighs. “This gonna work for you?”

Is Clint taking control of the situation and taking Phil along for the ride going to work? Oh hell yeah. Phil nods eagerly.

Clint brushes a kiss over Phil’s lips. “Here we go.” He lifts up and uses one hand to keep Phil’s cock in place as he starts to sink down on it. His other arm wraps around Phil’s neck.

Phil holds Clint’s hips in a loose grasp and nearly forgets how to breathe as he watches himself disappear into Clint’s body. It feels just as overwhelming as the first time—equally due to the heat and pressure and Clint’s trust in letting Phil in.

When Clint is fully seated in Phil’s lap, he lets out a sigh. “Hmmm.” He rolls his hips and looks at Phil. “How’s that?”

Phil digs his thumbs into the grooves of Clint’s hips. “Yeah. Good.” His brain’s capacity for words is already disintegrating. 

Clint laughs and lifts up just the slightest bit to grind himself down on Phil’s cock. They both groan, and Clint does it again, lifting a little higher each time. Phil can’t move much, but he doesn’t care.

Clint wraps both arms tightly around Phil’s neck. “You feel so fucking good in me.”

Phil can only nod and hold on. His orgasm builds, but it’s not as urgent as last time. He finds Clint’s lips for a sloppy kiss punctured by shared gasps and moans. 

Clint moves one of Phil’s hand from his hip to his cock. “Keep it easy for now.”

Phil holds him loosely, fingertips barely grazing over the heated skin. He swipes his thumb over the head and Clint’s steady rhythm falters. “Too much?”

Clint lets out a choked laugh. “It’s all too much but fuck if I wanna stop.” 

Phil has to agree. He wants to suspend this moment while also pushing them forward to see how much more they can wring out of their bodies. He slides his free hand down to Clint’s thigh and feels the muscles strain and quiver under his fingers as Clint pushes himself up and down.

“Are you close?” Clint’s voice shakes.

“Almost.” There’s the tell-tale tightening in Phil’s gut, but he can hang on a little longer.

“Now,” Clint instructs and briefly settles his hand over Phil’s to guide him into a tight, fast slide over his cock. Phil takes over and Clint whines at the next stroke.

Phil’s been holding back, but he lets go now. He manages tiny pushes up into Clint that send shudders through him, and he watches as Clint’s eyes close when he comes. He looks so beautiful.

Seeing Clint caught up in ecstasy is enough to tear Phil’s orgasm out of him with a sudden unexpected force. Clint gasps and keeps nearly still, holding Phil deep inside.

They hold each other for a long minute as they come down from their highs. Phil’s hands roam over Clint’s back, and Clint rests his cheek against Phil’s shoulder. 

“Wow,” Clint says. “That was worth waiting for.”

“Certainly an improvement over last time.”

Clint sits up. “That was good in its own way.”

Phil shrugs. He isn’t sure if he can ever agree with that. He’d rather forget about it and move on.

Clint kisses Phil’s cheek and runs a hand down between their bodies. “Let’s get a little more comfortable.” He moves back until Phil slides out of him. A slight wince goes through Clint.

“Did that hurt?”

“No, just, it’s weird. I get sensitive and I’m not turned on, so. Weird.” Clint makes quick work of the condom and grabs a few more tissues to wipe down Phil’s stomach.

“I could have done that.”

“Eh, I don’t mind.” Clint pulls the comforter off the floor. “Here, come lie down with me.”

Phil snuggles into Clint’s side. When Clint starts drawing random patterns across his shoulders, Phil closes his eyes. “What was it like the first time you let a guy fuck you?” Phil has been wondering about that since he decided that he wants to try that out, and has settled on “not great” as the most likely outcome.

“Oh, it was a little too spontaneous, so kind of a disaster, but also exciting.”

“Was it with someone you cared about?”

It takes a moment for Clint to answer. “Yeah. Not in the same way I care about you. Not even close. But he was a nice guy. Jason. He was on the football team, so everything was very hush-hush. We were fooling around one day, and then he said, ‘hey, let’s fuck,’ and I’d been curious about that, so we did. Eagerness and inexperience aren’t the best combo.”

“How so?”

“We didn’t take enough time to get me ready, so I was pretty uncomfortable at first, and then we never found a rhythm, and the whole thing ended up being underwhelming. But we figured it out after a few times.”

Phil nuzzles Clint’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Clint waves it off. “I think most people’s experience is similar.”

Phil counts himself lucky that Clint brings some experience to what they’re doing and that he’s patient and encouraging. The idea of them doing everything together for the first time sounds romantic, but Phil honestly prefers it this way. “I’m glad at least one of us knows what they’re doing.”

“You’re a fast learner. And…” Clint halts. “I know I’ve said this before, so tell me if you’re tired of hearing it, but being with you is different because—because I love you and I’ve never had that before.”

Phil’s heart thumps in his chest. He props himself up and looks down at Clint. “I’m never going to be tired of hearing that.”

They lose themselves in more slow, unhurried kisses. Phil hopes that Clint understands how much being together means to him and how amazing it is that they found each other.

Clint pulls away. “Okay, I’m starting to feel very sticky in all kinds of places, so I’m going to hop in the shower. Do you want to come with me?”

Phil really likes that idea. “Let’s go.”

Showering with Clint feels almost as intimate as sleeping with him. When Phil reaches for the shower gel, Clint takes it out of his hand with a quiet, “Let me.”

Phil wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of feelings that come with Clint’s caring touches. He washes Phil everywhere, from the tips of his fingers to his cock to the back of his knees. Phil shivers even though the water streaming over them is hot. 

When Clint is done, he gathers Phil into his arms. “You okay?”

“That was a lot,” Phil whispers. He has no explanation for it because Clint didn’t do anything extraordinary, and yet Phil’s knees feel like jelly.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Phil nods, unable to put into words how cherished and cared-for he feels. “Can I return the favor?”

“Please.” Clint lets go of Phil to give him some space.

Phil is just as thorough and gentle with Clint. When he’s done, Clint’s cock has started to fill. Phil rakes his fingers low over Clint’s stomach. “Do you want me to get you off?”

“You don’t have to.”

Phil moves behind Clint and turns them so that the water cascades over them in gentle waves. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to. I want to. Please?”

“Yes.” Clint leans back against Phil.

Phil hooks an arm around Clint’s middle to keep him steady, hand splayed over his chest. He uses his other hand to tease Clint as his cock thickens. Phil takes his time, keeping his strokes slow and measured even when Clint’s fingers close around his arm, digging in whenever Phil hits a particularly good spot.

When Clint’s head lolls back against Phil’s shoulder, and his breath turns into short pants, Phil closes his palm over the head, twisting. He marvels over how slick it is, evidence of Clint’s spiking want, and he circles his thumb just under it, prodding and pushing until Clint gasps and spills over Phil’s fingers. Phil switches to the rough and quick strokes Clint prefers when he comes.

He kisses Clint’s neck and shoulder as Clint shivers through the aftershocks. 

Clint turns in his arms, finding Phil’s lips for a long and deep kiss. “Thank you,” he mumbles. “You’re getting so good at that.”

Phil wants to learn exactly how to touch Clint for maximum amounts of pleasure because Clint deserves nothing less. “I try.”

Clint smiles. “Man with a mission?”

“Always.”

Clint laughs. “Okay, maybe we should get out of the shower despite the seemingly unlimited amount of hot water.”

“We got a new hot water heater last year. Let’s do this again soon?” There’s something about standing under the spray with Clint, sharing something so mundane yet also private, that gets to Phil.

There’s a soft look in Clint’s eyes that suggests he feels the same way. “Whenever you want.”

They get out of the shower and towel off. When Phil steps into the hallway, he notices the light coming from downstairs. “Did we leave the light on?” He can’t remember.

“I don’t think so. Maybe your mom’s home?”

“Yeah, probably.” Phil knows two things immediately: that she would have come upstairs to say hello and seen the mess in his room, and that she would have concluded that he and Clint are in the shower together. Maybe she heard the shower from downstairs and didn’t bother to come up.

As soon as Phil steps into his room, that hope is dashed: the clothes they left strewn all over the floor have been gathered up and draped over his chair. The messy sheets with condoms and a tube of lube scattered over them are untouched.

That is not something Phil ever wanted his mom to see.

“I guess your mom now knows that we’re fucking,” Clint says.

“Ugh. Uggghhh!” Phil rubs a hand over his face as if that would somehow wipe that fact away. 

“Look at the bright side: this way you don’t have to face another conversation with her asking if we’ve done ‘it’ yet.”

Phil pulls a pair of boxers out of the drawer. “That is the only upside of this.”

They get dressed in companionable silence. Phil’s stomach rumbles, and Clint’s joins in. They both crack up. 

“To be fair, we did engage in some vigorous physical activity,” Clint observes. 

Phil would prefer to hide out in his room until the end of time, but he needs food. “Vigorous and satisfying.”

“Most satisfying.” Clint nods his head toward the door. “Come on. I know this is weird, but your mom’s so laid back, it’ll be fine.”

Phil knows Clint is right, and yet.

Phil’s mom is in the kitchen eating cheese curds straight out of the container. “Hi! Seems like you had a good time while I was gone.” 

“Mom, please.” Phil opens the fridge and scans its contents finding exactly nothing he wants to eat. He wants something salty and greasy, like fries or pizza.

“We had a really good time,” Clint offers.

“I’m glad. These moments can be so special. And I noticed that you’re being safe.”

Phil sticks his head deeper into the fridge.

“Always,” Clint replies.

Phil closes the fridge door but keeps staring at it, hoping he can become invisible so he can escape this conversation.

“Good. When you’re young and exploring everything for the first time, being safe might not seem that important.”

“Um, not my first time,” Clint points out.

Phil keeps very, very still.

“Oh, I see.” His mom sounds surprised. “So you have some experience?”

“Yeah, back in Iowa—”

“Okay,” Phil jumps in. “Maybe we don’t need to discuss this in any more depth. Mom, can we order pizza?”

She gives him an indulgent look. “Sure. I’m hungry, too. They never serve any actual food at these fancy parties.”


	16. Family

After dinner and clearing away the dishes, Clint tugs Phil aside. “I’m gonna go out onto the porch. D’you wanna come with me?”

The question seems casual, but Clint has never asked Phil before, and porch time has been something Clint seeks out by himself. This time, Clint wants Phil to be there. “Of course.”

They put on their jackets and hats. Phil calls out to his mom, “We’ll be out on the porch!”

“Don’t stay out there too long! It’s below freezing.”

“Got it!” 

Clint gathers a blanket and a pillow from the laundry room. “This will help with the cold.”

When they get outside, Phil shivers at a gust of wind. Clint drops the pillow onto the wooden boards and motions at Phil to take a seat. When Clint peels back the tarp that covers the flower pots and his parents’ ashes, Phil notices that there are a few candles in jars surrounding them. Clint lights all of them. The light casts a soft glow.

Clint joins Phil and they wrap themselves up in the blanket. The wind feels less harsh, and there’s warmth emanating from Clint even through the layers of clothing between them.

“Hey mom,” Clint starts. “Sorry I haven’t come by for a few days, but they’ve been keeping us busy at school. I’m doing okay—good, even, like you’d want me to. Um, I’ve brought someone with me.” Clint glances at Phil. “This is Phil. Maybe you remember me talking about him. We met on the first day of school, and I’m sure I must’ve talked about him. But you had a lot going on then, so you may not remember. Anyway. I’m staying with him and his mom, and they’ve been—they’ve been really good to me. And Phil and I, we, well, we’re close. As in, we’re together.” Clint finds Phil’s hand under the blanket. “I though you should meet him.”

Phil isn’t sure if he’s supposed to say anything. Clint looks at him expectantly. “Uh, hi. Hi, Mrs. Barton.” 

Clint smiles. “Yeah, he’s polite like that. He’s lots of other things, too. And he cares about me.” Clint falls silent, and his head dips forward. “I’m not sure what I’d have done without him the last couple of months. Phil’s always there for me, and—“ His voice wavers. “I love him very much.” Clint drops his head into his hands, covering his eyes.

Phil pulls Clint into his side and noses along his neck. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.” Phil lifts his head. “The feeling is entirely mutual, Mrs. Barton. Meeting Clint is the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me.” 

A small sob escapes Clint. He hauls Phil into a tight hug, and for the next few minutes, they hold each other.

Phil wishes he could have met Clint’s mom for real, and that she could have seen how happy they are together. He thinks of his own mom, safe and sound just inside the house, and he realizes how lucky he is. Sometimes he almost forgets about the accident, especially when Clint laughs and jokes around or kisses him until Phil can’t remember his own name. But there’s a lingering pain underneath, and in moments like this, it surfaces, sharp and brittle. Phil needs to keep that in mind.

He continues to hold Clint, rubbing his back and murmuring quiet words of comfort. The wind whips around them, but they’ve built up enough warmth inside their blanket that Phil hardly notices it. 

Clint quiets and loosens his hold on Phil. 

“Okay?” Phil asks.

“Mostly.”

That’s as much as they can hope for. 

Clint pulls out his phone. “Do you want to see a pic of her? Of my mom?”

Phil’s throat goes tight. “I’d love to.”

Clint scrolls back through his gallery. “Here. That was the day before we left Waverly. We’d just finished loading the truck.”

Clint and his mom have their arms around each other, smiling up at the camera. The evening sky behind them is gold and pink. They look exhausted but content, and it’s so easy to see Clint in his mom’s face.

Phil doesn’t know what to say. An incredible sadness hits him. Sadness for Clint and his loss and for the unfairness of life. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry she isn’t here anymore.”

Clint nods, wiping tears off his cheeks. He puts the phone away and leans against Phil. They stay like that, huddled together and watch the candles flicker.

Phil thinks he can taste snow in the air—it’s just about the right time for the first snowfall and it would be nice to have snow for Christmas. He imagines that will be another hard moment for Clint. Maybe there are some traditions that they had; Phil should ask about that.

A forceful gust swipes across the porch, and they both shiver. “Let’s go back inside,” Clint says. He leans forward. “It’s getting real cold, so Phil and I are going to warm up. I hope that you’re safe wherever you are.” He blows out the candles and pulls down the tarp.

Phil picks up the pillow and blanket. When he opens the back door, warm air hits him. It feels so good against his face. He and Clint stand just inside the door for a moment, letting the cold dissipate.

They hang up their jackets and hats. The blanket and pillow go back into the laundry room. 

“I can’t face any homework now,” Clint says, looking at the dining room table. “I just want to go to bed with you.” 

Phil feels about as tired as Clint looks. “Me too. Let’s set the alarm for five and deal with it then.”

Clint nods. He swipes a thumb over Phil’s cheek and kisses him, soft and light.

When they pass the living room, Phil’s mom mutes the TV. “Phil, honey, do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” He gives Clint’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be right up, okay?”

“Take your time.” Clint walks upstairs.

Phil heads over to the couch and sits down, slumping against his mom. 

“Everything okay?” She wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“Yeah. Just…” Phil doesn’t know where to start. He hopes she doesn’t want to have a serious grown-up conversation because he doesn’t have the emotional bandwidth for that.

“Kind of a big day?”

“Hmm.”

“I won’t keep you for long. I haven’t asked about how things are going between you and Clint in a while, so consider this me asking.”

“We’re good.”

She rubs his shoulder. “Yeah? All the new things happening between you going okay?”

Phil nods. 

“Okay. That’s all I need to know.”

Phil is utterly grateful for that. “I—I really do love him.”

“I know. It’s easy to see how much you care about each other.”

Phil can hear the smile in her voice. “Can I go? It wasn’t just a big day for me.”

“Of course. I’ll see you in the morning.”

As he gets up, Phil pulls his mom into a quick one-armed hug. “Love you.”

“I love you, too, Phil-bear.”

Normally, Phil is annoyed when his mom calls him by a childhood nickname, but he doesn’t mind tonight. “Goodnight.”

**

He curls up in bed with Clint and they watch cartoons until they are about to fall asleep. 

“Wish I’d brushed my teeth an hour ago,” Clint mutters.

Phil is loath to leave their cocoon, too. “Come on, let’s just get it over with.” He pulls Clint along as he gets up. 

They hunch over the sink together, shoulders bumping occasionally. Once they’re done, Clint ushers Phil out of the bathroom to take a leak—“we’re close, but not that close,” he jokes—and Phil climbs into bed.

Clint joins him a minute later. The curtains are closed, and the lights are off. “Can we talk for a bit?”

Phil rolls onto his side, facing Clint. “What do you want to talk about?”

Clint wraps an arm around Phil. His thumb moves back and forth over Phil’s back. “Everything’s that happened today. You still feel good about that?”

Phil runs his hand up Clint’s thigh to his hip. “No regrets. I know it was just the first time we kind of figured this out, but it was still amazing. For me, at least.” He is almost certain that Clint is on the same page considering the way he looked and sounded earlier.

“For me, too.” Clint sighs. ”I wish we didn’t have to go to school tomorrow. I just wanna stay in bed and fuck until there are no more thoughts left in my brain. Um, sorry, if that was that too crude.”

“No, that—I get that.” Especially after seeing Clint fall apart on the porch, Phil understands even better why Clint has been longing for the kind of release they shared earlier. Not that sex between them wasn’t utterly distracting before, but this feels different. “I like being that close to you.”

“Me too.” Clint leans in for a kiss, but misses half of Phil’s mouth. They both laugh. “Sorry, it’s too dark and I can’t see shit.” His fingers find Phil’s chin and his thumb traces along the seam of his bottom lip. The next kiss hits its target perfectly. “There. Better.” His thumb swipes across Phil’s lips. “Just so you know, I want you to fuck me in every which way possible.”

An exhilarating tingle goes down Phil’s spine. “Do you have a favorite position?”

“Hmm. What we did today, with me on top, is definitely one. Hands and knees is good for a quick, hard fuck. I’ve always wondered…” He halts. “This is gonna sound so sappy. Anyway. Here it goes. I’ve wondered what it would be like to wake up with someone and then fuck in that drowsy, half-asleep state, just really slow and close and…yeah. Like, tip me over on my side or my front and slide right in me.”

Phil presses a hand against his cock, which has ideas about things that are not going to happen at this moment. “Jesus, that is the hottest thing anyone as ever said to me.”

Clint’s fingers trail down Phil’s neck. “So that’s a yes?”

“It’s a big fucking yes.” 

“Anything you’ve been thinking about?”

“Nothing that concretely.” Phil sorts through his daydreams. “I want to come back to the holding-me-down thing. And I want you to fuck me.”

Clint nuzzles him. “I can do that. Next time I blow you, I’ll finger you. So you can start getting used to that feeling.”

It still catches Phil off-guard when Clint is this frank about sex. It’s good because it makes things clear and avoids misunderstandings, but Phil isn’t used to it. At least not outside of drafting safe sex pamphlets, but that’s a whole different type of conversation. “I’m on board with that.”

“As for fucking you, I’ve only done that maybe twice before, so no guarantees.” He sounds cavalier about it, as if it’s no big deal, but there’s a hint of worry underneath.

Phil slides a hand up Clint’s side to his chest. He can feel the steady beat of Clint’s heart under his palm. “But you know what feels good when someone fucks you, so you’ll make it good for me.” Phil has no doubts about that.

“I’ll try my best.”

They fall quiet, and Phil wonders if this is the end of their conversation when Clint says, “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if the accident hadn’t happened. If we’d be together like this.”

The observation hits Phil hard. It conjures a scenario that he cannot imagine. “I think it would be just like this. Maybe you’d have come over after school because we knew my mom would be out, and we’d have fucked, and then you’d have stuck around for dinner and then decided you didn’t want to go home yet. So yeah, we’d be here, in bed, just like now.”

Clint shuffles closer until there’s no space between them. “Yeah, maybe. I just wonder sometimes.”

“I already liked you before the accident. When we went to the Homecoming game, and we cuddled under the blanket, I knew I wanted to be with you.”

Clint lets out a breath. “I was so into you then. But I was worried that you’d think we’re too different.”

Phil is tempted to say that they are not that different, but he doesn’t want to brush off how divergent their life experiences have been. “We would have figured it out. Maybe it would have taken us a little longer to figure out that we like each other. But I promise you that Jasper and Maria would have staged an intervention if we had dragged our feet for too long.”

Clint chuckles. “True. They would have.” He yawns. “Okay, enough philosophizing.”

“Sleep now?”

“Hmm.”

Phil briefly presses his palm against Clint’s chest. “I love you.”

Clint smiles into his neck. “Love you, too.”

**

The last week before winter break is pure hell. Phil isn’t usually upset about the amount of work teachers pile on them—he likes a good challenge—but having two quizzes, a paper, and extra debate prep-- _so you don’t get rusty over the holidays!_ \--seems uncalled for.

Finally, Friday rolls around and they are free for ten glorious days. For the Christmas edition of movie night, they watch _Die Hard_ , as has been their tradition for the last four years. Clint has never seen the movie, and Phil loves watching him as the tension escalates. Clint goes from being comfortably slouched against Phil to sitting up straight and clutching a pillow. Maria claims the spot at Phil’s side that Clint abandoned.

As the credits roll, Clint says, “Ok, maybe this movie wasn’t over-hyped. Definitely holds up for being a million years old.”

“Told ya,” Jasper replies.

They are debating _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ as sweet chaser to all the blood and explosions when Clint looks out the window. “Hey, looks like it’s snowing.” He easily vaults over the back of the couch and walks right up to the glass. “Oh shit, it’s coming down hard. Let’s go outside!”

Maria grumbles about it being too cold, but tags along to the front yard anyway. There’s a layer of snow on the ground already—the snow must have started shortly after Jasper and Maria arrived hours ago. 

“The forecast only mentioned a thirty percent chance of snow,” Phil says. He holds out his gloved hand and watches as a few flakes gently settle down. The first snow is always magical, but he knows from experience that he’ll hate it by March.

Clint stretches out his arms and tilts his head up, trying to catch snow with his tongue.

Jasper scoops up some snow. “Anyone up for getting their ass kicked?”

“Oh, it’s on,” Clint replies.

Phil wonders if Jasper will regret his taunt since Clint rarely misses no matter what he is throwing. He and Maria settle on the step that leads up to the house and watch as Jasper and Clint dart between bushes and trees. Clint has the better aim, but Jasper has more patience in waiting until Clint moves from one hiding spot to the next, so they are evenly matched.

Sitting in the dark, snow falling around them, Phil decides it’s the right time to tell Maria about Wednesday. If he could only find the right words. He takes a breath and almost starts twice before Maria bumps his shoulder and says, “Whatever it is, just tell me.”

“It’s…sex stuff.” Phil cringes. 

Maria snorts. “Okay, come on, I have heard you talk about all kinds of ‘sex stuff’ in detail during our sex-ed workshops without blinking an eye, so I know you can do better than that.”

“That’s different. That’s…educational and not about me.”

“Well, is it good or bad? If you and Clint are having problems with something, I may not be the right person to talk to considering that my experience with dicks is kind of limited. Not that this needs to be a dick-related issue. But it seems that guys always freak out about those the most.”

Phil smiles. He already feels better about this conversation. “It is a dick-related issue, and it’s a good one.”

She draws her knees up and lays her head on top, looking back at Phil. “Okay, great, so….”

“Well, Clint’s been—he’s been wanting to—to fuck for a while, and we finally did, and at first, it didn’t go well, but then on Wednesday…” Phil flashes back to the look of utter bliss on Clint’s face. “We took our time, and—“ Phil lowers his voice. Not because he’s worried that someone might overhear, but because it’s so personal. “It was so good.”

Maria swipes snow out of Phil’s hair and lets her hand linger. “I’m happy for you. For both of you.”

“Thanks.” 

“Do you feel different?”

Phil considers that for a moment. “No, not really. But I think we feel different about each other.” He doesn’t want to share the moments in the shower or on the porch, which are bounded up with everything else that happened that day, and which probably contribute to the slight change in their relationship. “It’s as if something has very securely locked into place.”

Maria wraps an arm around Phil’s shoulder. She doesn’t say anything more, but it’s not necessary. 

After a few more minutes, Clint comes stumbling towards them, hair sticking up all over the place, but he has the biggest grin on his face. “Victory!”

“It’s a draw, Barton,” Jasper corrects.

Clint ignores him. He pulls Phil to his feet and proceeds to rub his ice-cold nose against Phil’s neck, which makes him yelp and jump, but the kiss that Clint gives him makes up for it. 

Jasper wolf-whistles.

“I got all of that on video,” Maria says with a smirk. “I’ll send it to you.”

Clint flips them off, and Phil laughs. Then he kisses Clint again.


	17. Christmas

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Clint starts when they’re lying in bed together that evening. “Are you not putting up a tree? Seems like the kinda thing your family would do.”

“Oh, we do, but we usually do it close to Christmas because that was a tradition in my mom’s family when she was growing up. We have a plastic one in the garage that we can set up this weekend if you want?”

“Yeah. The last few years, we didn’t do much for Christmas, and I’ve always liked having a tree.”

Phil wonders if Christmas simply didn’t happen for Clint in those years. “Is there anything that you did? Any family traditions?”

“Dunno about traditions, but my mom always made Rice Krispie treats that she’d dye red and green, and we watched _It’s a Wonderful Life_.”

“Is that something you want to do? We can, but we don’t have to.” It might be too painful now that Clint’s mom isn’t around.

“If it fits into your plans. Rice Krispie treats aren’t exactly fancy Christmas food.”

Phil almost says that their Christmas dinners aren’t fancy, but realizes that from Clint’s perspective, the baked ham and sides probably count as fancy. “I like them, and I know my mom won’t mind adding them to the list. And I’m sure we can find the movie, too.”

Clint kisses Phil’s temple. “Thanks. I know my family is—was—pretty dysfunctional, but everyone tried for Christmas, so I always looked forward to it.”

“I hope this Christmas can be good, too. At least a little. Even if it’ll also be hard.” Phil will try his best to make it the best possible experience for Clint.

“I’m sure some of it will be good. If I’m too morose, just ignore me.”

As if Phil would ever do that. “You may have to put up with extra hugs.”

“Sap,” Clint mumbles.

“Pot, kettle,” Phil retorts.

Clint nudges Phil’s hip. “C’mon, kettle, turn over so I can spoon you and we can go to sleep.”

Phil turns. “Who’s the sap now?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clint nuzzles his neck. “Night, babe.”

A thrill shoots down Phil’s spine. Clint hasn’t used any sort of endearment before, and Phil didn’t think he’d like it, but it turns out he does. A lot. “Sweet dreams.”

**

On Saturday, Phil and Clint stay in bed until after eleven; they wake up much earlier, trade lazy handjobs, nap, make out, and doze some more. They only get up when they are too hungry to put off food any longer.

After breakfast, they set up the tree. Phil tries to come up with an excuse to keep Clint out of the garage to prevent him from accidentally stumbling on the dresser from his parents’ house that Phil has been restoring, but in the end, he decides it would seem more suspicious to keep Clint away than to let him walk right past the cloth-covered dresser.

Fortunately, it blends in with the overall clutter and Clint never notices it. They gather the tree and boxes of ornaments—“How many of these do you have?” Clint asks, astonished by the five plastic bins—and carry everything into the living room.

The tree assembly is quick, and then Phil’s mom directs the distribution of lights. Satisfied, she leaves the rest to Phil and Clint.

They unbox all ornaments first. Phil likes to have them all set out to achieve an even spread of colors and shapes throughout the tree. 

“Wow, some of these look really old.” Clint carefully opens a worn cardboard box. The sticker on it says sixty-five cents. 

“They are.” Phil holds up one of the silver baubles. “I think these belonged to my grandparents. Or maybe great-grandparents.”

“Maybe you should handle the older ornaments. I don’t want to drop some family heirloom.”

“You’ll be fine. The carpet cushions most falls.” He picks up another ornament and places it on the tree. 

“Is there some color scheme I should be paying attention to?”

“Not really. Just a nice mix across the tree.” Phil thinks of the perfectly color-coordinated decorations at Jasper’s house. He wonders what they’re doing this year. Last year, it was a rustic ski lodge scheme and Jasper complained about it endlessly.

Phil takes out his phone. “Do you mind if we put on some Christmas music?” He has a tree decorating playlist, but Clint doesn’t need to know that. “It’s mostly Bing Crosby and the like, so if that’s too old-fashioned, I get it, and we can find something else.”

“Go ahead. Unless it’s super religious, I don’t mind old Christmas songs.”

Phil puts on the music, and they continue working quietly.

“Hey, what about these? Why are they still packed away—oh shit, they are purple! Look at them!” Clint holds up a shiny purple ornament. 

“Oh, right, these.” Phil and his mom usually skip these because they are just so very big and purple.

Clint’s enthusiasm fades. “Do you not like them?” 

“No, I do, they’re just—you know what, let’s add them.”

Clint places the lid back on the box. “We don’t have to. I guess they are a little garish.”

Phil steps closer and stops Clint from placing the box back into the plastic bin. “They’re perfect for this year. We need something really bright and happy.”

A hint of a smile shows on Clint’s face. “Yeah, okay.”

When they’re done, they step back to admire their handiwork. 

“It looks really nice,” Clint says.

“Let’s plug in the lights.” Phil bends down to do just that. The lit-up tree looks even better. “Mom! Come take a look!”

She walks over from the kitchen. “It looks fantastic. Nice job.” She motions at the tree. “Go stand in front of it and I’ll take a picture of you.”

Phil wants to roll his eyes, but Clint takes his hand and pulls Phil against his side.

“Perfect.”

Just as she takes the picture, Clint leans in and presses a kiss to Phil’s cheek. Phil ducks his head, and Clint laughs.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Clint says, not sounding apologetic at all.

“Do we need to do the pic again?” Phil asks. One look at his mom’s face tells him that they don’t. She looks enamored as she flips through her photos. “Can I see?”

She holds the phone out to him. Phil can understand her reaction—the pics show him and Clint laughing, their heads tilted toward one another, caught up in each other. He can see the love they have for each other in those images, and it nearly knocks him off his feet.

Clint looks over Phil’s shoulder, and as he sees the photos, his arms comes around Phil’s waist, squeezing him. “Can you share these, Julie?” There’s a slight catch in his voice.

“Of course.” She smiles at them. “There. Now, once you’ve gotten all of these bins back into the garage, we can have lunch.”

The second trip to the garage goes as smoothly as the first, and Phil wonders what Clint’s reaction to the dresser will be. Phil took a few liberties in restoring it so it would both be a tangible memory and something uniquely Clint, and he hopes that Clint appreciates that. Only a few more days until he finds out.

**

The rattle and beep of the UPS truck is a dead giveaway even from half a block away. Phil sits up a little straighter to peer over the back of the couch, hoping it’ll stop at his house. His grandparents often send last-minute gifts, and December 24 would certainly qualify as such.

When the truck does indeed stop, Phil calls out, “I’ll get it,” and walks to the front door. The driver comes up the walkway with a large rectangular package.

“Clint Barton?” He asks.

“Uh, no.” Phil ducks back into the house. “Clint, it’s for you.”

Clint looks up from his comic. “That’s gotta be a mistake.”

“I don’t think so,” Phil replies. The driver gives him an impatient look. “Come sign for it.”

Clint walks over, scribbles his signature on the screen the driver holds out to him, and accepts the large package. He sets it down on the floor in the living room. “Who even has my address?”

“Maybe Barney sent you something?”

“I doubt that.”

Phil’s mom joins them. “Well, open it. It has your name on it.”

Clint tears open the cardboard box to reveal another much sleeker box inside, nestled in packing peanuts. “Huh.” 

Phil kneels beside Clint. “What is it?”

“That name on the box, that’s a bow manufacturer.” Clint digs out an invoice. “Oh, there’s a message on it.” His eyes scan across the paper. “It’s from Nat. Just says ‘Have fun with this! Merry Christmas.’ She couldn’t possibly have….” Clint lifts up the smaller box and sets it on the coffee table. He carefully opens it. It reveals a steel case, and inside of it, a beautiful bow. “Holy shit.” Clint reverently runs his fingers across the bow’s arch.

“Wow.” Phil doesn’t know anything about bows, but this one looks professional and not cheap.

“I can’t believe she’d…” Clint swallows. “This is so fucking expensive, you have no idea.”

“That’s a very thoughtful gift,” Phil’s mom observes.

“It’s nuts, and I can’t—I mean, how can I even accept this?” Clint stares at the bow.

Phil settles his hand on Clint’s back. “I doubt she would have chosen it if she didn’t want you to have it.”

“I know, but—“ Clint’s phone vibrates, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “Speak of the devil.” He accepts the FaceTime call. “Hey, Nat.”

“I got a notification that my gift got delivered. Do you like it?”

Phil catches a glimpse of the screen. He’s seen pictures of Natasha, but they didn’t do her justice. 

“Do I like it? I fucking love it!” Clint tilts the screen down toward the bow so she can take a look at it. “I hope your finger didn’t accidentally slip when you ordered this because this is a professional Olympic-grade bow.”

“Oh, I know. You deserve only the best.”

“Nat, stop,” Clint mumbles.

Phil is pleased to hear that someone else thinks that Clint deserves so much more than what life has previously given to him.

“I won’t. Is that Phil next to you?”

Clint holds his phone farther away so they both fit into the picture. “Yup.”

Phil gives Natasha a little wave. “Hi! Nice to meet you.”

She looks him up and down. “I can see why Clint talks about you all the time.”

“Shush,” Clint says, laughing. 

Phil wonders what exactly Clint has told her.

Clint glances at Phil. “I only tell Nat how amazing you are.”

“That’s true,” she confirms.

“Oh, and this is Julie, Phil’s mom.” Clint swivels the phone around.

“Hello, Natasha. Thanks for getting Christmas started early.”

“My pleasure. I wanted to make sure my gift would arrive in time.”

Clint points the phone back at himself. “Thank you. It’s amazing. I still can’t believe you got this for me.”

Natasha shrugs. “My father won’t even notice it on his credit card bill.’

Phil previously assumed that Natasha’s family was wealthy, but it seems like he was off by a few degrees. 

Clint shakes his head. “Well, okay. Thanks again. It means a lot.”

“You should go and try it out,” she replies. “There should be some arrows as well.”

Clint digs through the box again. “Yes! There are. Wow, these are beautiful, too.”

“Well, then, go. Shoot some arrows.” She smiles at him.

“Okay. Merry Christmas!”

With a wave, Natasha hangs up.

“Wanna go shoot some arrows?” Clint asks, already getting to his feet.

“I won’t, but I’ll watch you.” Phil loves watching Clint do archery, after all. “Mom, is there anything in the backyard that we shouldn’t use as target practice?”

“I imagine the trees won’t take too kindly to it, so try to find something in the garage?”

That’s fair, and Phil wouldn’t want to cause any damage to the old trees in their yard. “We’ll find something.”

**

They cobble together a few targets out of an old wooden ladder, cans with dried paint, and empty cardboard boxes.

It takes Clint a few shots to adjust to the bow and to fiddle with its mechanics, but after that, it sings in his hands. He tries out a variety of shots from various distances that all hit their aim. Phil collects arrows and steals glances at Clint, who is lost in the task. It’s a good look on him. Too often Phil sees a tense line across his shoulders or shadows under his eyes, but he radiates happiness as he shoots arrows across the snowy yard.

After the fourth round of hitting all the targets, Clint turns to Phil. “This is—this bow is the best one I’ve ever used. I can’t believe it’s mine.” He looks at it as if he can’t believe it’s in his hands.

“We should get some actual targets. Or build some.”

“Winter break project?” Clint smiles.

“Sign me up.” All the YouTube videos Phil watched about woodworking are probably also useful for building targets.

“I could also teach you, y’know,” Clint says.

“To shoot?”

Clint nods, a flush across his cheeks. “If you want.”

Phil is sure he’d make a complete fool of himself, but also senses that it won’t matter. “I’d love to.”

Clint pulls him into a searing kiss. 

**

The next morning, Phil slowly comes awake to the feeling of Clint’s warmth nearby. There’s a hand resting on Phil’s back. It’s not slack with sleep, which means that Clint is already awake. 

Phil lets out a sigh of contentment. It’s Christmas, Clint is right there with him, and there is no rush. No need to wake up fully yet.

“Morning,” Clint says.

“Were you watching me?” Phil mumbles. 

“Maybe.”

Phil smiles and feels for Clint. His hand bumps into Clint’s chest immediately, which means he’s indeed _right there_ , likely lying on his side. Phil wiggles closer until he can tuck his face into the curve of Clint’s shoulder. 

Clint kisses the top of Phil’s head. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

It makes Phil smile. “Same to you.”

“Is there some Christmas morning protocol we have to follow?”

“Not really. You can check if Santa left us new pajamas in front of the door. That means my mom’s awake and downstairs making coffee.”

“New pajamas? Okay, this I gotta see.”

Clint gets out of bed and Phil reluctantly opens his eyes. He reaches for his phone. It’s 9:27, which means there’s a good chance his mom is awake.

“Oh shit, you weren’t kidding!” Clint scoops up two sets of pajamas wrapped up in a bow and carries them back to the bed.

Phil sits up. “I guess we can tell which are for me and which are for you.” One set is deep purple with arrows on it and the other is navy with Cap shields.

“Ya think?” Clint unties the bow. “That’s so nice of your mom. I mean Santa. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a pair of pajamas with a coordinated top and bottom.”

If Phil was more awake he could probably think of a clever retort for ‘coordinated top and bottom,’ but his brain is still fuzzy. “I think about fifty percent of my pajamas are Christmas morning pairs. She used to buy them a size larger than I needed to make sure I could wear them longer.”

“Should we put these on and go downstairs?”

Phil would rather spend more time in bed with Clint, but they have a lot of time for that later. “Yes. I’m curious to see which PJs my mom picked out for herself. One year, she found ones that had a vague accounting theme and they were the best.”

**

“Wow, that’s a lot of gifts.” Clint stops halfway across the living room and cradles his coffee mug against his chest.

“There are some from my grandparents, too.”

“And from Aunt Helen and Uncle George,” Phil’s mom supplies. “Let’s sit.”

They sit on the floor in front of the tree. Phil puts his Christmas morning playlist on, and they start unwrapping gifts. Some of his gifts are college-themed, and his grandparents’ card includes information about a savings account “for books and such” that has quite a bit of money in it. Any other year Phil would have been excited and grateful for that and moved on, but this year, his family’s generosity—and their ability to give him such gifts—humbles him. 

His mom holds out a squishy, square gift to Clint. “This is for you. I have a few things to say about it, but unwrap it first.”

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” Clint says. 

“I know, but I wanted to.”

Clint gently undoes the bow and wrapping paper to reveal a soft gray sweater and a gift card. Clint runs his hand across the fabric.

“I hope you like it,” Phil’s mom says. “I noticed that some of your sweatshirts have started to fray at the cuffs and are getting thin in the elbows.” Her tone is gentle and earnest. “I know you can buy your own clothes, so I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries with this gift. But I saw the sweater and thought you might like it. You can pick out something else with the gift card.”

Clint’s eyes stay fixed on the sweater in his hands. “Thank you. I wouldn’t’ve bought this for myself. Still learning that I could, I guess.”

“All in good time,” she replies. 

“Um, I actually have something for you and Phil, too. Two little things. I’ll just go get them.” Clint rushes upstairs.

“Do you think Clint liked the sweater?” Phil’s mom asks when Clint is out of earshot.

“Yeah. You caught him off-guard, but he liked it.”

She looks relieved. “Good. I went back and forth about it, but it seemed like he could use it and would enjoy wearing it.”

Clint comes back down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. “Okay, so, these are just little things. I wasn’t expecting all this.” He gestures at the pile of gifts under the tree.

Phil’s mom accepts her gift. “Thank you for thinking of us.” She opens the small box to reveal two big packages of pens. “You remembered that I always lose my pens.” She pulls Clint into a hug. “Thank you.”

Clint rubs the back of his neck. “You’re welcome.” He turns to Phil. “This is for you.”

Phil’s heart speeds up. It’s a thin rectangle about the size of a card game. When he peels away the wrapping paper, he sees the Cap trading cards that were a Comic-Con exclusive a few years ago. “Oh wow.”

Clint smiles. “You kept talking about them.”

“How did you even find these?”

“E-bay.” 

Phil has looked for this deck off and on over the last few years, but never had much luck. “Thank you.” It must have taken Clint a lot of time and quite a bit of money to get these. “I love them.” He leans in for a quick kiss.

Clint rubs his arm. “Good. They were meant to be yours.”

“I have something for you, too, actually.” He gets to his feet. “It’s in the garage, so we should probably put on a jacket.”

Clint gives him a quizzical look, but follows Phil. So does Phil’s mom. They bundle up and head to the garage.

Phil’s hands feel clammy as he walks up to the chest of drawers, which is still hidden underneath an old sheet. “Here it is.” He pulls away the sheet. “Merry Christmas.”

Clint takes a closer look. “Wait, is that…” He runs his finger over the top edge, stopping at a dent in the wood. He rubs his thumb over it. “Barney and I were playing pirates, and he had this plastic sword that was a little more powerful than anyone suspected.” He swallows. “Phil…” He shrugs, a helpless look in his eyes.

Phil shifts from one foot to the other. “Is—is this okay? I wanted it to still be recognizable, but also yours, so I stained it a dark brown, and—“ 

Clint slams into his arms, holding on tight. He doesn’t say anything, but Phil can hear Clint suck in short breaths. 

Phil wraps his arms around Clint. He runs a hand up and down Clint’s back. “You okay?” He asks softly.

Clint’s hands curl into Phil’s jacket.

Phil meets his mom’s eyes over Clint’s shoulder. She has a hand pressed over her heart; Phil feels a sympathetic pang. Clint trembles with the effort of trying not to cry, and Phil wonders if he’s holding back because Phil’s mom is there. “Is this too much?” Phil murmurs. He settles a hand over Clint’s nape. “We can go inside. Just us.”

Clint straightens slowly. Tears well up in his eyes. “No, I’m—I’m okay.” He wipes the back of his hand over his eyes. “Kinda.” He looks at the dresser again. “I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil says. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Do you like it, at least?”

Clint nods. “It’s beautiful. How’d’you pull this off?” He looks back and forth between Phil and his mom.

“It was Phil’s idea.” She takes a step closer. “He spent a lot of time on this while you were at work.”

“And I watched so many YouTube videos. So many.”

“Sneaky,” Clint says, a tiny smile playing around his lips. “Thanks for saving it. I’m glad it’s still here.”

“Open the drawers,” Phil suggests. They are his favorite part.

Clint lets go of Phil and pulls open the top drawer, revealing a periwinkle interior. “Aw, Phil.”

“Like I said, I wanted it to feel like it’s yours. Keep going.”

Clint opens all the drawers, revealing a gradient of purple shades—lavender, lilac, violet—and ending in a rich eggplant color. “These are amazing.” He loops a hand around Phil’s neck and kisses him deeply.

Phil stares at his toes because geez, his mom maybe didn’t need to see that. When he risks a quick glance at her, she looks back at him with fond amusement.

She says, “Should we go back inside and have pancakes? After breakfast, we can think about how to haul this upstairs.”

“I’d love some pancakes,” Clint says. “Is there even space for this in your room?”

“We’ll make room.” Phil already has some sketches. It’ll only take a slight rearrangement of the furniture. 

“Okay. Thanks.” Clint slides his hand into Phil’s. “C’mon, there are pancakes to be eaten.”

Phil laughs and lets himself be pulled along.

**

After breakfast, Phil and Clint make Rice Krispie treats. The recipe sounds straightforward, but it doesn’t include a warning about how sticky melted marshmallows are. By the time they have wrestled the Rice Krispies mixture into two pans, everything is sticky: a pot, various utensils, and their hands. Not to mention the two bowls they used to dye half of the mixture red and the other half green. There are streaks of red and green food coloring all over the countertop, too.

“Do I have some in my hair?” Phil asks.

Clint finishes washing his hands. “Let me see.” He brushes a hand over Phil’s head. “Nope.”

Small mercies. “Can you start loading the dishwasher?” Phil scrubs his hands, then tackles the countertop.

“Sure thing.” Clint gets to work. “And now I have to wash my hands again. I don’t remember this stuff being so tenacious.”

It takes another fifteen minutes to remove all traces of food coloring and Rice Krispies mix from various surfaces.

“I was going to suggest that we move your dresser upstairs, but—”

“Maybe later?” Clint interrupts.

“Or tomorrow?” 

“That works, too. There’s no rush. So, what now? Any other Coulson family traditions?”

“It’s usually a pretty quiet day. My mom and I often start reading one of the new books we got for Christmas.” Phil laughs. “Saying out loud makes it sound pathetically boring.”

Clint tugs Phil closer. “Sounds nice to me. Quiet. Cozy.”

Phil slides his hands up to Clint’s shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Hmm.” 

They kiss. It tips over into something deep and languid, and when Clint pulls away with a sigh, Phil wishes he could take Clint upstairs and spend a few hours in bed. Fuck Clint slowly, maybe, and then start that exploration Clint hinted at the last time they had a chance to be together without fear of interruptions. But with Phil’s mom reading in the living room, Phil would feel weird about disappearing into his room for a few hours for the very obvious purpose of having sex with Clint.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Judging by Clint’s look, he already knows where Phil’s thoughts have gone.

“My mom’s annual Christmas brunch with her friends can’t get here soon enough.”

Clint smiles. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” He turns Phil against the countertop and then leans against him, which is completely unfair because Phil can feel the thickening line of Clint’s cock through his pajama pants.

Against his better judgement, Phil widens his stance so that their legs slot neatly together. “You know why.”

Clint rolls his hips and Phil sucks in a breath. “Yeah, I have an idea.”

When Clint seeks out Phil’s mouth again, the wise choice would be to put an end to it right there, but kissing Clint is so good, and the pressure that Clint puts on him is just right. 

Only when Clint moans into the kiss does Phil wrench himself away. “Okay, stop, my mom one hundred percent heard that.”

“That only means she won’t come into the kitchen.”

It’s almost a convincing argument. “Which is good because she doesn’t need to see me like this.”

“What, worked up?” Clint teases. Whispering, he adds, “Rock hard?”

Phil bites his lip. 

Clint takes pity on him and eases some of his weight off Phil. “Alright, why don’t we go outside and I’ll shoot some arrows and we’ll both calm down?”

Phil isn’t sure that watching Clint do amazing things with his bow will help the situation, though the cold probably will. “It’s worth a try.”

Thank goodness their winter gear and the bow still sit next to the backdoor where they left it last night. Neither of them are in a state to walk past the living room.

The cold outside is piercing, but the sunshine warms Phil’s face. They dust fresh snow off the targets.

“C’mon, do the warm-up with me, and then I’ll show you how to shoot.” Clint starts jogging around the yard.

Phil falls into step beside him. They do some stretching, too, and then Clint demonstrates how to hold the bow, nock an arrow, and let it fly. He makes it looks so easy, but when Phil takes the bow, he realizes just how much strength it takes to pull back the string. His first arrow only makes it halfway to the targets.

Clint pats him on the shoulder. “It takes a while to figure this out.” He corrects Phil’s stance and repeats the instructions for how to aim. He’s patient and encouraging, and Phil’s fifth arrow actually skims one of the cardboard boxes. “There you go!”

Phil feels accomplished. If he wants to pursue archery more seriously, he definitely needs more upper-body strength. He hands the bow back to Clint. “Have some fun with this.”

Clint smiles. “Alright.”

Phil has an even deeper appreciation for Clint’s skills after trying his hand at the bow. There’s complete precision in Clint’s shots, even if it seems like he’s only paying half attention. 

They stay in the yard until Phil can barely feel his toes. When they step onto the porch, Clint says, “I’ll stay out here for a bit. Can you get me the blanket from the laundry room?”

“Of course.” Phil retrieves it and the pillow. He helps to bundle Clint up and heads back inside, where his mom has left a steaming pot of coffee.

Cup in hand, Phil joints his mom in the living room and picks up one of his new books to read.

**

After dinner, they watch _It’s a Wonderful Life_ , which strikes Phil as melancholy and perhaps not the ideal choice for this evening regardless of the Christmas theme. Clint slides his hand into Phil’s halfway through the movie and doesn’t let go. He’s quiet, bordering on subdued, as they get ready for bed, but if something is bothering him, he doesn’t share.

When Phil wakes up in the middle of the night, Clint isn’t next to him. The most likely scenario is that Clint has gone to the bathroom, but when he doesn’t return after a few minutes, Phil gets up to look for him.

Clint is in the living room, huddled under a blanket and watching the lit-up tree. He turns around when Phil approaches.

“Can I sit?” Phil asks.

Clint nods and holds out one end of the blanket to him. Phil sits down on the carpet and wraps the blanket around his shoulders. He notices that the hoodie that belonged to Clint’s mom is balled up in Clint’s lap. Sadness settles heavily in Phil’s gut. He hopes that their attempt to integrate some of Clint’s Christmas memories into their celebration didn’t make the day harder for Clint.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Clint says.

“You didn’t.” No need to make Clint worry about another thing, and besides, Phil is sure that Clint’s absence that woke him, and not noise or jostling from when Clint got out of bed. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Clint mumbles. “And I didn’t wanna wake you with my tossing and turning.”

“You could have woken me.” Phil would much rather be sleep-deprived tomorrow or any day than have Clint wrestle with what’s weighing on him alone.

“Nah, it’s just the same old shit, so…” He shrugs. “Didn’t seem worthwhile to wake you.”

Phil slides an arm around Clint. “Tell me about it anyway, if you want.”

Clint’s hands smooth over the hoodie. “Just missing my mom.”

If Clint went so far as getting out her hoodie, there’s nothing minor about it. Phil knows that Clint misses her all the time, but today must be incredibly hard. “I figured. I wish she could be here with us.”

“Me too. Your mom is great, and she’s helped me a lot, but I just—I want my mom, even if that makes me sound like I’m five.”

“It doesn’t.” He turns his body further toward Clint, and Clint leans against him, his head landing on Phil’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if anything we did today made you feel worse.”

“No. Well, maybe the movie. Because he could go back to his life and see his family again, but I can’t. It even feels like Barney’s gone because he’s so far away.”

“At least he’s coming back soon, right?”

“Dunno, he’s been talking about extending his stay. Probably doesn’t want to deal with everything here. With me.”

Phil has never met Barney, so he probably shouldn’t judge, but deciding to stay abroad even longer strikes him as selfish. “That’s an asshole move.”

“Yeah, well.”

“I wish that—” Phil halts. Clint doesn’t need to hear that Phil wishes the accident didn’t happen. Hearing that won’t change anything for Clint. “Tell me if there’s anything I can do?”

Clint wraps his arm around Phil’s back. “This is good.”

“Okay.” This is how this particular conversation always goes between them, and Phil knows that he needs to trust Clint to ask for anything else if he needs it, but it’s still frustrating. Sitting with Clint is the absolute minimum he can do, and surely there has to be something more.

Clint straightens and gives Phil an amused look. “You’re huffing to yourself, so what is it?” 

Phil doesn’t want to make this about himself. He’s not the one who’s grieving his mom on Christmas. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Clint gives him a look. 

Phil sighs. “I always feel like I’m not doing enough for you in moments like this.”

A sad smile crosses Clint’s face. He looks down at the hoodie, then up at Phil. “You have no idea, do you? How much you’re doing when you’re with me when things get too much?” He pauses, but Phil doesn’t think he expects an answer. “There’ve been so many times when I really wanted someone to be with me when things were tough and there was no one there. My mom worked all the time. My dad has always been useless. And Barney’s just two years older than me. He tried, sometimes. So you being there for me is huge. I’ve never—” His voice breaks. “I’ve never had that. Someone who’s always there.”

Phil swallows. He’s such an idiot. He looks away. 

Clint’s palm cradles the side of Phil’s face. “Hey.”

Phil reluctantly looks back at Clint.

“Let’s sit here for a while longer and then go back to bed, okay?”

Phil nods. He inches back until he can lean against the couch and motions Clint closer. Clint sits between Phil’s legs and they work together to wrap the blanket around them. Clint takes a few deep breaths, and with each exhalation, Phil can feel more of Clint’s weight against him. 

“Love you.” Phil brushes a kiss to Clint’s temple.

“Me too.”


	18. Tumbling toward the New Year

“God, babe.” Clint sighs as Phil pushes deeper into him.

Phil brushes his lips over Clint’s cheek. He’s as far in Clint as he can, and yet Clint pushes up against him. Clint’s thighs tremble around Phil’s hips, and his fingers dig into Phil’s back, all signs of how close Clint is already. 

Phil took his time opening Clint up, going far beyond what was necessary. Clint had nearly come, a flush stealing all the way down his chest, and his cock sticky and straining upward in a hard curve. 

They’ve done this enough times by now that Phil knows what it means when Clint’s eyes go out of focus and he lets out pleading noises instead of encouraging Phil with words. Phil hasn’t found the angle yet that makes Clint shudder, but he keeps trying.

“Almost,” Clint whispers. His hand slides down to Phil’s ass, nudging him just the tiniest bit to the left and pressing down to keep Phil all the way inside a fraction longer. On the third stroke, Clint arches his back. “Fuck, there, just, keep going—”

Phil kisses Clint’s shoulder. “Like this?”

Clint’s helpless moan is answer enough. 

Phil is on a mission now. Maintain that angle, gradually increase speed and force of his strokes, make sure Clint has enough room to get a hand between their bodies.

“Wait,” Clint mumbles. “Don’t wanna…not yet.”

Phil slows his strokes to lazy rolls of his hips. Clint’s arms slide more fully around him, pulling Phil into a kiss. 

“Stay close?” Clint asks.

“I’m right here.” Phil runs his thumb over Clint’s cheek. Clint is always unguarded with him in moments like this, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that isn’t often there. “I got you.”

Clint nods, and his eyes start to lose focus as Phil picks up the pace again. 

Phil tries to keep his strokes even, but the tension in his gut twists into tighter circles. He can keep it at bay for now, but there’ll be a moment soon when it will snap, and then Phil can’t do anything but ride it out.

“Not yet,” Clint pleads. A tremor runs through his thighs again, and Phil slides a hand behind one knee to help Clint. A groan slips past Clint’s lips. He’s barely hanging on, Phil can tell. 

“Just let go.” Phil nuzzles Clint’s neck.

Clint whimpers, short breathy sounds as his hands flutter against Phil’s back.

Phil isn’t sure why Clint won’t let pleasure overwhelm him like he usually does. Sometimes when they fuck, Clint wants to get off as quickly as possible, wants it as hard and fast as he can get it, and then there are moments like this when Clint needs Phil to keep them just on the brink for as long as possible.

Phil grits his teeth as he gets closer and closer to the point of no return. He wants Clint to come first. It’s a point of pride.

At last, Clint fumbles a hand between them. His other hand presses down against the small of Phil’s back, urging him to stay in Clint. There’s no way Phil can stay still, however, and his hips jerk, coaxing broken gasps out of Clint until his entire body tenses and releases. 

Clint sucks in deep breaths as he jitters through the aftershocks. 

Phil runs a hand down Clint’s side, ignoring his own body’s demands to keep going. He watches as Clint slowly comes down from his high. As he moves to pull out, Clint stops him.

“Wanna feel you come,” he says, his eyes clear and focused.

“It’s not too much?” 

“’m good. C’mon.” Clint draws his knees up again, and Phil definitely feels the change in angle. He barely swallows down that moan. Clint swipes a finger across Phil’s lips. “Hey, no, let me hear you.”

That’s still a challenge for Phil. He knows they’re alone, and there’s no one who could possibly hear them. He groans the next time he pushes into Clint. 

“Just like that. You still feel so good.” Clint moves with Phil.

Phil closes his eyes and lets his head drop to Clint’s shoulder as he gives up on any sense of rhythm. His hips snap forward in quick, hard strokes as Clint whispers all kinds of encouragements into his ear. Phil’s hands slip under Clint’s shoulders as he seeks more leverage, pushing forward and forward until white-hot pleasure tears through him.

Phil can’t move for what feels like minutes. Clint’s palm soothes over his back, up and down, up and down. Phil musters enough strength to slip out of Clint and roll over. He could fall asleep within seconds, but he should at least take care of the condom. His hand shakes as he tries. Clint puts a gentle stop to it.

“Let me.” 

Clint is quick and efficient in cleaning them up. He pulls the comforter over them and stretches out half on top of Phil.

Phil dozes, but doesn’t fall asleep. He can tell by the rhythm of Clint’s breathing that he is awake, too. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Just now, when we were…It seemed like you didn’t want to let go.”

Clint props up his head and looks down at Phil. “I guess it’s because we don’t get to be together like that too often, and it’s—‘ He shakes his head.

“It’s what?”

Clint looks down at where his hand rests on Phil’s chest. “Christmas was good, but it was also hard, and this helped to get me out of my head. That doesn’t happen a lot.”

“If you wait half an hour, we could probably have another go.” It’s an evasive answer, but Phil isn’t sure what to say to Clint that isn’t another version of _I’m sorry life screwed you over so utterly_.

Clint snorts. “Isn’t that cutting it a little close to when your mom comes home?”

“I could always text her for an ETA and then ask her to pick something up at the store for us.”

“And you don’t think she’d see right through that? She one-hundred percent knows we’re fucking while she’s out of the house.”

Phil wants to pretend that Clint isn’t right about that. “Probably, but I like to be in denial.” He covers Clint’s hand with his own. “Does it bother you? That we have so little time to—”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. No? Maybe? Makes it more special. And really, we have plenty of sex otherwise.”

That’s true. “Okay, but you’ll tell me if you ever really want—”

“Have you forgotten that one time when we thought that your mom was for sure asleep and you were like half-way in me and she went to the bathroom? I’ve never lost interest in sex that fast.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me.” 

“At least we don’t have to sneak around.”

Phil will always be grateful for that. “And we get to fall asleep together every night.”

“That’s pretty special.” Clint picks up Phil’s hand and kisses his palm. “If I could choose, I’d pick that over fucking every night every time.”

Relief washes over Phil. “Me, too.” As always when this comes up, Phil thinks about how going away to college will put an end to falling asleep together, at least temporarily. It’s going to hurt. But it’s months away, and they’re still on winter break, so Phil pushes the thought away. “Want to make out and see where it goes?”

Clint grins. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

**

“How do you feel about ice skating?” Phil looks at the text from Maria asking him and Clint to come to the pond that afternoon.

“Hmmm?” Clint blinks up at Phil. Half an hour ago, Clint sat down on the couch and slid down more and more until he ended up curled on his side.

Phil rubs over Clint’s ankle. “Maria asked if we want to go ice skating.”

“Oh, um, sure, but I don’t have any skates. And I’m not great at skating.” Clint stretches, and Phil’s eyes trace the curve of his back.

“Just text Jasper and ask him to bring an extra pair in your size. His family keeps an array of skates in case any out-of-town guests want to hit the ice.”

“Got it.” Clint takes out his phone.

A few hours later, they drive Phil’s truck out to the pond. It’s not the only body of water in the area, but everyone in town knows this particular one as “the pond.” Phil has skated on it every winter for as long as he can remember.

They park the truck by the side of the road and walk the short path down to the frozen-over pond. 

Clint takes in the surroundings. “It’s a gorgeous spot.”

“I love it.” Phil takes in the bare trees, mixed in with firs and evergreen bushes. They form a natural barrier against the wind. The afternoon sun filters through the branches. It’s a cold day, but they won’t feel it on the ice. 

Maria skates toward them. “Hey guys!” Her cheeks are flushed. She must have taken a few loops around the pond already. “Jasper left the skates right there, and there’s also a thermos with hot chocolate and some other snacks.”

Phil spots Jasper on the other side of the pond. “Thanks. We’ll join you soon.”

Clint locates the skates. “It’s pretty empty for it being a popular spot.”

Phil laces up his skates. “That’s because we’re two days out from the near-universal college application deadline. And families with younger kids come earlier in the day.” 

“Huh, applications are due on New Year’s Eve?”

“Many of them. And Madison will reveal its early decision acceptances that day.” It seems so long ago that Phil submitted the application. He expects to get in, but a nervous flutter goes through his stomach nevertheless.

“I’m sure you all got in.” Clint stands on his skates, shifting his weight from foot to foot to test out their fit.

“We’re meeting an hour before Maria’s party starts to check our status.” Hopefully Clint won’t mind hanging around for that.

“Cool, then we’ll have another thing to celebrate that day.” Clint holds out a hand to Phil. “Ready?”

Phil lets Clint pull him to his feet. “Let’s go.”

Clint steps on the ice and pushes off with a powerful stroke. His balance is impeccable and he glides across the ice with ease.

Phil catches up to him. “I thought you haven’t skated a lot.”

Clint shrugs. “I haven’t. Guess you don’t forget, kinda like riding a bike.”

Phil knows plenty of people who are still wobbly on their feet after having learned to skate as kids. “I guess. Race you to the other side?”

Clint grins. “Oh, it’s on.”

It’s exhilarating to chase Clint across the ice. Aside from sex, they haven’t done something like this together before—something that’s grounded in their bodies, with a push-and-pull happening that’s challenging and fun. 

There’s no real winner to the race, and they laugh and catch their breaths when they reach the opposite shore.

Jasper skates closer and stops with an elegant half-circle. “Barton, how are the skates?”

“Working well, thanks. You up for a race?”

“I prefer a more leisurely approach to skating, but I’m sure Maria’s up for it.”

She comes towards them in backwards arcs. “You’re cutting a fine figure on the ice,” she says to Clint.

“I’m alright.”

She gives him a disbelieving look. “Uhuh. Too bad there aren’t more people around or we could set up a hockey game. Relive some of Phil’s Peewee glory days.”

“Oh, please tell me more.”

“There isn’t much to tell,” Phil interjects.

‘I disagree,” Maria says. “Phil was an excellent goalie. But all of his after-school activities started to interfere with practice, so he stopped.”

Phil nods. “Priorities.”

“D’you ever regret it?” Clint asks.

“No. I still get to skate, and I play the occasional game in the winter.”

Clint gives him a hungry look. “I’d love to see that.”

“Maybe after New Year’s.” He pushes off again. “How about a game of tag for now? Catch me if you can!”

Clint and Maria join in the game. The three of them dash around the ice, trading off being chased. They make quick turns, dodge hands, and switch between fast pursuits and strategic loops. Jasper cheers them on and shouts tactics across the pond. 

Phil has an excellent time until his right skate hits a snag in the ice. His right ankle twists, and he goes flying. He manages to soften the landing with his arms and legs, but still gets the air knocked out of him.

“PHIL!” Clint’s panicked scream echoes across the pond.

Phil wants to answer that he’s mostly okay, but he can’t get any words out. All he can do is lie still and try to breathe.

Rapid strokes come closer, followed by a sharp stop that launches ice shavings into the air. Clint kneels next to Phil. His face is pale, and his hands shake as they hover over Phil. “Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?”

Phil manages to give him a thumbs up.

“Are you sure?”

Maria and Jasper arrive. “That was quite the tumble,” Jasper says.

Phil tries another gesture to convey that he’s mostly okay, but needs another minute.

Clint leans closer to him. His fingers trace over Phil’s face and the back of his head. “Babe? Please say something.” He sounds scared.

“’m okay,” Phil manages.

Clint slumps forward. “Good, okay. Okay.” He settles his hand on Phil’s chest, keeping the touch gentle and light.

“Nothing’s broken?” Maria asks, eyes scanning across Phil’s body.

“No.”

“How about we help Phil to the shore,” Jasper suggests. “That sound good?”

It’s going to hurt, but Phil wants to get off the ice. His back already feels numb from the cold. He nods.

With some effort, Phil’s friends manage to get him upright. Phil carefully puts weight on his right foot. It stings, but it’s not the searing pain a strain or break would cause.

Clint ducks under Phil’s arm and gently grasps his waist. “Okay? D’you need another minute?”

Breathing still hurts, but Phil should be able to move. “Okay.”

Jasper says, “I have a blanket. I’ll set it up.” He skates off.

They slowly make their way off the ice. Clint supports Phil’s weight, and Maria hovers close in case Phil stumbles. When they reach the edge of the pond, Clint nearly carries him to the blanket. 

Phil hisses as he sits down. His ass is bruised, and so is his right shoulder. His ankle thrums. At least breathing is easier again. “Thanks.”

Clint sits next to him. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

Phil wiggles his hand. “Had worse.” Like falling out of a tree house when he was ten and breaking his leg.

“We should get you home.”

“Maybe stop at the doctor first,” Maria suggests.

“Not necessary,” Phil says.

Clint looks him over again. “Are you sure? That’s not a bad idea.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

Jasper holds out a cup of hot chocolate that Phil accepts with gratitude. Something hot sounds perfect. His hands shake, and Clint slides his hand under Phil’s to help him take a sip. “Should we call your mom? You definitely can’t drive, and I shouldn’t. Too jittery.”

“How about I call her?” Maria suggests.

“Let me do that,” Phil says. “Otherwise she’s going to imagine I broke both my legs or something.” He turns to Clint. “Can you get my phone out of my jacket pocket and call? Put me on speaker.”

Clint gets out the phone, and they make the call. After an initial moment of panic, Phil’s mom is assured that Phil’s life isn’t in any danger, and she agrees to drive over to collect them. 

“Sorry to ruin the fun,” Phil says.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jasper says. Maria and Clint make noises of agreement.

Clint holds Phil with much care. “Most important thing is that you’re okay.”

“Exactly,” Maria agrees.

**

Phil has never been happier to see the couch. Getting the skate off his hurt foot had been an ordeal, and then he had to hobble back up the path to his mom’s car, and once they got home, into the house. Clint helped as much as he could, but Phil still felt every ache in his body.

He sinks into the cushions and lets out a sigh. “Not moving again.”

“Just let us know what you need, honey, and Clint and I will be happy to get it for you.” His mom brushes a hand through his hair.

“Can you get my blue sweatpants and a T-shirt? Maybe the one from last year’s Debate championships? That’s extra-soft.’

“Of course,” she replies. “Clint, why don’t you help Phil out of his clothes while I’m upstairs.”

Phil tries to sit up, but the pain everywhere makes him flop back down. “This is gonna suck.”

Clint takes his hands. “I’ll try my best.” He pulls, and Phil groans from the strain on his shoulder. “Okay, let’s get your sweater and T-shirt off in one go.”

Clint helps Phil to slide his arms out of the sleeves first, which isn’t too bad. Then he gently tugs everything over Phil’s head. “There.” 

Phil scans his arms and sees a few small bruises. “How does my shoulder look?” 

Clint leans around Phil. “It’s pretty banged up. You’ll have an impressive bruise for a few weeks.”

Phil isn’t surprised. His shoulder and upper arm are sore already. 

“Pants next. You’ll have to stand for a bit, but I promise it’ll be quick.” 

Phil reaches for the button on his jeans, but Clint stills his hands. “Let me?” he asks.

Phil nods. 

Clint undoes the button and slides the zipper down. “Now stand up. You can use my shoulders for balance.”

Together, they manage to get Phil into a wobbly stance. Clint pulls down his jeans, then helps Phil sit back down. A sting goes through Phil; there must be a bruise on his ass, too. 

Clint slowly pushes Phil’s jeans further down. There’s no issue with his healthy leg, but his hurt ankle sends jolts of pain through Phil even though Clint is so careful. 

“Sorry! But it’s done now.” Clint holds Phil’s calf while studying his ankle. “It doesn’t seem to be swollen, so you probably just twisted it real bad.”

“Still hurts like hell.”

Phil’s mom walks down the stairs. “I have some Advil. You should take two.” She sets the clothes on the couch along with a pillow. 

Phil doesn’t like anything that dulls his senses, but he feels crummy enough to want some relief. “Yeah, okay.”

She looks him over. “I’ll give Maggie a call and maybe she has some more suggestions. She could probably also swing by after her shift.”

“That’s okay. It’s really not that bad.” Phil doesn’t want all this fuss. He’ll feel better in a few hours. 

“We’ll see what she says.” She ruffles Phil’s hair. “How about something to eat? Soup? Or the leftover chili?”

“Chili, please.”

Clint adds, “For me, too, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I’ll be right back. Try to elevate that foot, honey.” She walks off toward the kitchen. 

Clint picks up the fresh T-shirt. “Hold out your arms.”

Phil does as he’s told, and they work together to get the shirt on, then the sweatpants. Clint gathers all the pillows in the living room so Phil can be propped up against the arm of the couch and keep his ankle raised. By the time Phil stretches out, he’s exhausted.

His mom comes back with a tray holding chili, bread, water, and Advil. Clint keeps sitting on the floor next to the couch while they eat even though there is plenty of room next to Phil’s mom on the love seat. It’s a touching gesture. 

“I’ll call Maggie now.” She starts to gather up the dirty dishes, but Clint stops her. 

“It’s okay, I can do that.” He piles everything onto the tray.

“Thank you.” Taking out her phone, she walks upstairs.

Phil closes his eyes and listens to the sounds of Clint walking to the kitchen and rinsing the dishes. He smiles when familiar footsteps come closer. 

“You feeling any better?” Clint asks.

Phil opens his eyes. Clint’s settling back in next to the couch. “Yeah. Painkillers are kicking in.”

“Good.” Clint rubs a hand across Phil’s chest. “You scared the shit out of me when you went down. You didn’t move, and I thought…” He shakes his head. 

Phil lays his hand on top of Clint’s. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault, obviously.” 

It must have been terrifying for Clint to witness Phil’s fall. It would have been a scary moment under any circumstance, but considering that Clint only recently lost his parents, Phil understands that this cut close. “Come here for a sec.” He reaches for Clint’s shoulder.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“It’s okay. Just for a moment.” They both need this.

Clint pushes up on his knees and leans over Phil. His touch is hesitant, one hand going to Phil’s hip and the other holding his weight up as his head dips and comes to rest in the crook of Phil’s neck and shoulder.

Phil strokes over his hair and down to his nape, feeling Clint exhale. “I’m okay.”

“I know.” He sounds shaky. 

Far too soon, Clint pulls away. 

Phil keeps holding on to Clint’s arms. He wishes Clint could lie down next to him, but the couch might be too narrow. “Can you—is there a way for you to fit on the couch with me?”

Clint gives him a fond smile. “I’m sure we can find one.”

They end up with Clint sitting on the couch, pillow in his lap, and Phil lying down. They spread a thick blanket over Phil, and Phil turns his face toward Clint’s stomach. He feels safe and cared for, and finally understands why Clint has insisted that Phil’s presence in difficult moments is enough. Having Clint this close is all Phil wants right now, and it is indeed enough that he can feel the rise and fall of Clint’s breaths under his cheek and know that Clint won’t move unless Phil asks to get up. 

“I hope your mom doesn’t mind this.” Clint gestures at the two of them.

“Why would she? You know that she’s happy about us being together.”

“Yeah, I know, and I didn’t mean us in general. More like, me taking care of you.”

Maybe Phil is foggy-brained, but he isn’t sure where Clint is going with this. “Why?”

“Because she’s your mom and taking care of you is part of that. She’s done that your whole life.”

Oh. That’s a good point. “I think she understands why you’d want to take care of me, too.”

Clint runs his thumb over Phil’s hairline. “I’m sure she does, but if she’s more intense about it than usual, then let her?”

Clint is right. Phil usually squirms under any doting from his mom, but listening to Clint, he realizes once again that he’s lucky that his mom cares so much, and that he has a mom to dote on him. “I will. Thanks for pointing that out.”

“Sure.”

“You’re good at the whole doting thing, too.”

Clint smiles. “You make it easy.”

Phil turns his face further into Clint’s stomach.

“Okay, okay, enough with the sap. Want me to put on some music? Or a podcast?”

“Hmm, yeah.”

Clint chooses the latest episode of Phil’s favorite comics podcast, and Phil nods off after a few minutes.

**

By the time they go to bed, Phil already feels better. He’s glad that he convinced his mom not to have Maggie come by to check on him. His ankle still hurts, but he can shuffle around on his own. Clint remains within reach, and there are a few times when Phil is glad that Clint is ready to catch his elbow.

As Clint helps Phil into his pajamas, he asks, “Should I sleep on the couch tonight?”

“What? Why?” 

Clint smooths a hand over Phil’s arm. “Because I don’t want to kick you in my sleep or bump against your shoulder.”

“You’ve never kicked me in your sleep, and the last thing I want is to sleep alone.”

Clint glances down at his feet. “Okay. It was just a thought.”

Phil takes Clint’s hand and leads him over to the bed. “I appreciate it, but I want you right here.” He lets Clint get in first, and only winces a bit when he lies down.

Clint stretches out along Phil’s side. “This is so much better than the couch.”

“A million times better.”

Clint runs a finger along the edge of Phil’s pajama pants. “Even though the ice interfered with the plans I had for tonight. I was gonna blow you and maybe finger you a bit.”

A shiver goes through Phil. He’s not up for anything tonight, but the prospect remains enticing. Whenever Clint’s fingers slide into him, it only takes a minute to go from “this is weird” to “this feels amazing.” and Clint is getting good at figuring out how to twist his fingers to make Phil’s self-control slip away. And that’s when things always get really good. 

“Maybe tomorrow morning. And my mom’s still doing her Friday night out with her friends even though it’s just after New Year’s, so maybe you could fuck me then?” Phil’s been toying with asking for that, but chickened out a few times. He wants to, and soon, and who knows when they next have the house to themselves once they’re back in school.

Clint lifts his head. “Really?”

“Really.”

Clint kisses Phil, soft and slow. “I’ll make it so good for you. So, so good.”

A wave of affection crests in Phil. “I have no doubt about that.”

**

By New Year’s Eve, Phil’s ankle is almost back to normal. He can walk without problems, and he only feels a light twinge when he takes a corner too quickly. The bruises will take longer to heal, but he makes sure not to put too much weight on his shoulder.

As planned, he and Clint arrive at Maria’s house an hour before the party starts. The early decision results have been up for hours, but they made a promise to each other to check them when they are all together.

Now they are only one click away.

“On three,” Maria instructs. “One, two, three…yes!” 

Jasper fist-pumps and Phil smiles. They all got in. 

Cling kisses Phil’s cheek. “Congrats.” He gets up to high-five Jasper and Maria. “Good work, team!”

“I guess we are officially going to college,” Maria says. “Wow.”

“It’s good to have a fallback option,” Jasper adds.

Phil likes to think of Madison as more than that, even if they all have other schools as their top choices. But he’d be fine with Madison.

“I’m proud of you.” There’s adoration in Clint’s eyes.

Warmth blooms in Phil’s chest, but then he realizes something that has lingered at the edge of his mind but is now undeniable: going away to college also means leaving Clint behind. And that is an unsettling thought.

Clint lays a hand on Phil’s back. “What is it?”

Phil forces a cheerful expression on his face. “Nothing. Just a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

“Okay.” Clint’s expression shows that he clearly doesn’t believe everything is okay.

“Didn’t Mount Holyoke release their early decision results today, too?” Jasper asks. 

“Damn, I’d hoped no one would remember and I could check on my own later.” Maria fiddles with the cuff of her sweater. “Lick my wounds in private if necessary.”

Phil nudges her shoulder. “As if they would turn you down.” 

Maria picks up her phone again. “Okay, okay, I’ll check.” She navigates to the website. “Argh, I can’t.” She holds the phone out to Phil. “You do it.”

Phil backs away. “Oh, no, you need to do that yourself.”

Maria stares at the screen for long moments. “Okay.” She takes a deep breath and hits the button. “Yes!” She drops the phone on the couch and jumps to her feet. “Fuck yes!” She runs a small victory lap around the living room, fist-pumping the air. Then she holds out her arms. 

Jasper is up first, pulling her into a hug. Phil is up next. 

“Can’t believe this is real,” Maria whispers to him. 

Phil holds her tighter. “You better believe it is.”

When they let go of each other, Maria waves Clint closer. “What, no hug?”

Clint slowly gets to his feet. “Wasn’t sure if you’d want me to.”

Maria rolls her eyes and hugs him close. Phil can see Clint smile as he wraps his arms tightly around Maria. There may still be doubts in Clint’s mind about how he fits into this group of friends, but there’s no doubt in Phil’s mind that he’s earned a permanent place in it.

After all hugs have been exchanged and they’ve all double-checked that yes, they really did get into college, Phil asks, “Maria, can we help you set up anything?” 

“Actually, yes. My mom bought a ton of snacks, and I haven’t had a chance to sort through them.”

“Lead the way,” Phil says, and they all head to the kitchen.

People start trickling in an hour later, and two hours into the party, Maria’s house is packed. Phil recognizes many faces. It seems like Maria invited every queer and queer-friendly person in their school: her softball team, the GSA, and the theater kids. It’s nice not to have to think twice about being affectionate with Clint. Not that he thinks too much about it in other circumstances, but it does make a difference to be in a supportive environment. Maybe that’s why his thoughts keep drifting back to his earlier realization of how going to college includes moving away from Clint and moving away from the town he has known all his life. It makes him stick closer to Clint and reach for him more than he usually does when they’re among friends. Clint doesn’t seem to mind. Around 10pm Maria drags Phil away to dance and Clint gets caught up in a game of beer pong, minus the beer.

Taking a break from dancing, Phil weighs a chocolate versus a vanilla cupcake when Clint walks up to him. “Wanna head outside for a bit?” He holds out Phil’s jacket.

“Sure.” It’s been rather loud between the music and people’s exuberance. A moment of quiet sounds good.

Clint slips on his jacket and hat. They walk out onto the front porch and sit down in the swing. The cold is piercing, but in a good way. Phil takes a deep breath. He can see stars above the trees on the opposite side of the street.

“So, earlier, there was something that bothered you,” Clint begins. “And it’s been weighing on you.”

Phil should have known that Clint picked up on that. He’s not annoyed by it; Clint noticed because he cares about Phil and knows him well enough to see when something is off about him. “It’s not something that’s immediately relevant,” Phil hedges.

“Tell me anyway?”

They have to talk about this sooner or later. It’s probably good not to put it off. “I was thinking about how going away to college means moving away. Moving away from you, specifically.”

Clint remains quiet for a few moments. “That’s a long way off. Months.”

That isn’t the reaction Phil expected. It doesn’t really matter that it’s months away because it will happen. Unless Clint thinks they might not be together anymore? Surely not. Phil finds that impossible to imagine. “Why do you say that?”

“Because a lot of things can happen in that time.”

Phil’s throat tightens. That distinctly sounds like Clint has doubts they’ll make it that long. “What, like we’re going to break up?” Phil tries to sound casual even though the mere question breaks his heart.

“What? No!” Clint looks at him with wide eyes. “Is that something you’re thinking about?”

Panic rises in Phil. “No, of course not! But you were saying ‘anything can happen’ and I was talking about moving away from you, and that sounded like—like you were maybe thinking that we wouldn’t be together anymore—“

Clint shakes his head. “I’m not thinking that. Promise.”

Phil searches Clint’s face. “Really?”

Clint squeezes Phil’s hand. “I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

It takes another minute for the words to sink in and for Phil’s heart to stop racing. “Me too.” He tips forward until his forehead connects with Clint’s shoulder. “Fuck, let’s not do that again.”

Clint’s fingers find a way under Phil’s scarf and gently scratch across his nape. “We’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out. Guess I was thinking about the last few months and how life can fuck you over when you don’t expect it. But I love you, okay? And that’s not going to change.”

Phil nods and pulls Clint into a kiss filled with longing and hope.

Clint’s cheeks are flushed. “Keep kissing me like that and you’ll never get rid of me.”

Phil kisses him again.

**

At ten seconds to midnight, Phil stands in Maria’s living room with his arms around Clint, counting down along with everything else. Amid cheers of “Happy New Year!” they kiss—soft and quick, just a touch of lips—and then hold each other tight. If Phil has any say over it, he’s never letting Clint walk out of his life.


	19. Trust

“You’re sure?” Clint reaches for the hem of Phil’s sweatshirt.

They stand in the bathroom, the shower already running. “I’m sure.”

“Your shoulder—“

“Is fine.” Phil stretches his arms up as further proof. 

“Okay.” Clint slides the sweatshirt up and off Phil. The T-shirt underneath follows. Clint undressed first, and insisted on helping Phil out of his clothes. “Just, y’know—”

“Checking in.”

Clint’s thumbs hook into the elastic of Phil’s sweatpants. “Yeah.”

Phil lays his hands over Clint’s. “I want you to fuck me. Tonight. Right after we take this shower. I’ve thought about it for a long time, and I’m ready, and I know we can always stop.”

“Okay, okay, less talking and more getting on with it.” Clint leans in for a soft kiss. “I’m only trying to be considerate.”

“I know.” Phil lets go of Clint’s hands so he can push the sweatpants off. Clint stays on his knees and kisses along the groove of Phil’s left hip all the way to the top of Phil’s cock, which starts to fill at the touch of Clint’s lips.

“I love your dick,” Clint says as he stands back up.

Phil rolls his eyes.

“I love the rest of you, too.” Clint gives Phil’s cock a few good tugs. “But your dick is perfect. Especially when it’s all the way in me.”

Phil shivers. “Keep that up and we’re not even going to make it into the shower.”

Clint lets go. “And that would be a shame.” He pushes the curtain aside and steps into the tub. He holds a hand out to Phil, who climbs in after Clint.

Clint reaches for the shower gel. “Close your eyes.”

Phil complies. The hot water and Clint’s hands work any lingering tension out of Phil’s muscles. Phil isn’t apprehensive about their plans, but it is something he’s never done before, and maybe there was a tiny flare of nerves earlier. Phil expects nothing spectacular; mostly, he’s curious about what it’s like to reverse their usual roles.

Like the previous time they showered together, Clint is very thorough. There isn’t a part of Phil that Clint’s soapy hands leave untouched. When Clint is done, he steps behind Phil. With a kiss to Phil’s shoulder, he says, “I wanna try something. If you don’t like it, just tell me.”

Phil doubts that he’ll dislike anything involving Clint’s touch. “Okay.” He tilts his face toward the water and enjoys Clint mouthing over his shoulders, down his back, over his tailbone, and—

_Oh_.

Phil’s hand slams forward against the tile as Clint’s tongue works its way between the cheeks of Phil’s ass. Clint’s thumbs provide assistance, opening a path. Clint flattens his tongue against Phil’s hole, and Phil’s knees nearly buckle. 

Desperate moans tumble out of Phil’s mouth as Clint tongues over his hole again and again. Phil is embarrassed by the groans and half-sobs, but he can’t help it. There’s something about feeling Clint’s tongue _there_ , the way it’s illicit and unanticipated and wonderful, that shakes Phil to his core. 

When the tip of Clint’s tongue slips past Phil’s rim, he keens. It’s too much, yet he also can’t get enough. Clint keeps going. Phil’s hands curl into fists against the tiles. Clint’s tongue dips in and out, never as deep as Phil wishes he’d go, but entrancing nevertheless. Phil feels himself yield to it, similar and yet different than when Clint uses his fingers.

Eventually, Clint slows and stops with a single broad swipe of his tongue. He stands, wrapping an arm around Phil’s chest, catching Phil’s weight. “Need a moment?” The tone in Clint’s voice suggests that he’s well aware that Phil needs more than one moment to recover.

“Fuck.” It’s all Phil’s brain can come up with.

Clint chuckles. “Well, yeah, that’s the idea.” His free hand runs down Phil’s side. “Glad you liked it.”

“Thought my brain was leaking out of my ears.” 

Clint smiles against his skin. “I could kinda tell. It, uhh, felt pretty amazing on my end, too.” He presses closer to Phil, hard cock slippery against his ass.

Phil widens his stance to feel more of Clint, and they fall into a lazy push-and-pull. As good as it feels, it’s also only a tease of what’s to come, and Phil needs to get to that already. “Let’s get out of the shower.”

Clint hums in agreement. They quickly towel off, and Clint stays behind to brush his teeth. Back in their room, Phil pushes the comforter to the foot of the bed and gets lube and condoms out. He lies down and gives his cock a lazy twist.

Clint joins him a minute later. “You wanna stay like this?”

Phil nods. He wants to see Clint’s face. More than that, he wants Clint’s weight on him. He almost asked Clint to tie his hands, but that might be a little much for the first time they’re doing this. 

Clint kneels between Phil’s legs and lubes up a few fingers. “I know you probably feel ready, but indulge me?”

Indulging Clint is one of Phil’s favorite things to do. He draws Clint close for a kiss, which turns into a brush of lips when Clint’s fingers push inside. Phil exhales. This is familiar, and he knows Clint will twist his fingers just so, and—there. 

Clint smiles, knowing perfectly well what Phil feels. He keeps going until Phil’s hips start moving with him. 

Clint eases his fingers out of Phil. There’s a twinge in Phil’s chest as Clint gets the condom on because this is it, they’re really going to do this—

And then Clint pushes into him and all thoughts fly from Phil’s brain. Clint goes slow, and it’s not painful or even really uncomfortable, but it still feels overwhelming. Phil’s hands shake against Clint’s side.

Clint picks up one of them and laces their fingers together, dropping their entwined hands next to Phil’s head. It helps.

“Breathe,” Clint instructs. “Almost there.”

Phil gulps some air into his lungs.

“There.” Clint brings his free hand up to Phil’s face, thumb tracing over his cheek. “It’s a little weird, isn’t it?”

Phil nods. It means so much that Clint knows exactly what Phil is going through.

A soft smile plays around Clint’s lips. “Overwhelming?”

Phil nods again.

“Give it a minute.” Clint rolls his hips. 

That startles a breath out of Phil. “Again.” There’s something easing inside of him. He can exhale. Settle into this feeling of being opened up. Not just because Clint is all the way in him, but also because he’s giving himself over to Clint. Phil thought he knew what that meant, but it’s so much more challenging than he expected. And Clint keeps looking at him, fond and caring, ready to abandon all of this at the slightest hint of discomfort.

“More,” Phil says. Clint must be going out of his mind with how still he’s held himself.

Clint starts slow and lets a rhythm build. It feels good, but it doesn’t quite click for Phil. He’s still too anchored in his mind. “I need—can you—”

“Any—anything.” 

Phil draws his hand out Clint’s hold and crosses his wrists above his head. For a moment, Phil wonders if Clint will understand, but then Clint’s hand closes over Phil’s wrists. 

“Like this?”

“Tighter.”

Clint’s holds Phil’s hands down with enough force that Phil can feel his strength, but not to the point that Phil feels trapped. Phil falls into the feeling of being securely held, and he can finally, finally let go.

He moans when Clint strokes into him again.

“Babe,” Clint whispers, voice full of wonder. His hips twist helplessly and his rhythm falters.

Phil doesn’t care. He gets now why Clint pleads and begs when they fuck. It’s like a wave cresting over and over again, carrying Phil with him. Every time Clint presses back into him, it pushes Phil a little higher.

Clint’s breaths become shorter. “I gotta—Phil—I need…”

“It’s okay.” He can feel the tremble in Clint’s arm.

Clint shifts, and gets his knees under him. There’s more force to his strokes now, and almost all of them hit Phil exactly right. His cock gets almost enough friction from where it rubs against Clint’s stomach. Phil is kept in suspension of almost-there, and he presses up against Clint in a desperate reach for that little push he needs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Clint’s hips snap against Phil, then grind against him as he shakes through his orgasm.

Clint’s hold on Phil’s wrists loosens as the tension seeps out of Clint’s body. Phil runs his fingers through Clint’s hair and down to his nape, aware how wrung out Clint must feel. 

“Sorry,” Clint manages between shaky breaths. “I couldn’t—couldn’t hold on.”

“That’s okay.” 

“Should’ve gotten you off.” Clint pushes up on his elbow and palms Phil’s cock.

Just that one touch nearly makes Phil come. It won’t take much more. “Keep doing that.”

“Let me just…” Clint shifts just enough to slip out of Phil. Three of his fingers push in right away. “I know it’s not the same, but my dick’s done for now.” 

Phil’s hips jerk as Clint’s fingers twist in him. 

“Guess this is gonna be fine, too.” Clint’s other hand closes around Phil’s cock with a tight stroke. “Come on, babe.”

Phil moans as Clint starts to take him apart. This they have done often enough that Clint knows exactly how fast, how deep, and how much force. 

It doesn’t take long until the wave breaks inside of Phil. He shudders as he comes.

Phil floats, mind unmoored, distantly aware of Clint moving around. The touch of a soft cloth comes and goes. Warmth envelops Phil as Clint bundles them into the comforter.

“Earth to Phil,” Clint whispers, his fingers grazing over Phil’s back.

“I’m here,” Phil mumbles into Clint’s chest.

“Sure about that?”

“Mostly.”

Clint lets out a soft laugh. “Should I take credit for reducing you this state?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

Clint kisses the top of his head. “I’m glad this was good for you.”

Relief weaves into Clint’s words. Phil knows that Clint was determined to make this experience better for Phil than the first time Clint let someone fuck him, which had been rushed and fumbled.

“It was. Really good, even.” Phil grasps for more to say, but his mind is still largely buzzy static. “Sorry. Words are…” He gestures vaguely. 

“Aww, babe, we need to do this again just so I can see you like this some more.”

“Like what? Unable to form sentences?”

Clint tightens his hold on Phil’s shoulders. “Blissfully fucked out of your mind, yeah.”

That sounds about right. “What about you?”

“I—“ Clint pauses. Softly, he continues, “You were—the way you looked—how you felt—that was…fucking amazing. Thanks for—for trusting me like that.”

Phil wants to say, _of course I trust you_ , but he has a feeling that it might come across like brushing aside something deeply meaningful to Clint, who doesn’t trust easily, and for whom opening up in any way is still a challenge. “You make it easy.”

Clint lets out a strangled sound and rolls Phil onto his back. He studies Phil, then leans in for a kiss that turns into another and another until Phil lets go of coherent thoughts again.

**

By the time Phil’s mom comes home, they’re sitting on the couch eating ice cream and watching _The Two Towers_. She joins them, and they talk about her evening, but very pointedly skip over what Phil and Clint were up to while she was out.

They head to bed around midnight, and Clint falls asleep quickly. Phil’s brain has other ideas. He keeps flashing back to earlier, to the flood of feelings and sensations. He knows he can’t go to sleep before processing all of these thoughts.

He reaches for his phone and glasses and slips out of bed. A lifetime of practice allows him to avoid all creaky spots on the floor, and he makes it downstairs without disturbing the nighttime quiet of the house.

It’s 1am, but Maria should still be up. Phil sits down at the dining table, pulling one knee up on the chair. He props his phone up against the fruit bowl and opens FaceTime.

Maria answers almost right away. “You’re up late.”

Phil already feels more settled seeing her in her favorite chair with Boo in her lap. “Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” The cat swipes a paw at the screen, but Maria holds it out of reach. 

“Did you and Clint have a fight?”

Phil smiles at Maria knowing this late call is related to Clint. “No. Kind of the opposite.”

“Oh. _Ohhhh_. You finally—“

“Yup.”

Her expression softens. “How did it go?” 

“It was good.”

“And?”

Of course she’d know that Phil wouldn’t only call her to share that he had a good time with Clint. “It was kind of a lot.”

She frowns. “Okay, that can mean so many things.”

“Right. So. Um.” Phil knows he can tell her anything, but that doesn’t make it easier to tell her this. “If this is TMI, tell me to stop.”

She gives him a look. 

“Well, okay.” Phil takes a deep breath. “We took a shower together first, and Clint, he, um, rimmed me.”

Maria’s eyebrows climb. “You don’t just do that for anyone.”

“I know. And—“ Phil feels heat in his cheeks. “It was so good. Like, my-knees-almost-gave-out good.”

Maria grins. “Was he into it, too?”

Phil nods.

“What then?”

“We got into bed, and he started fucking me, and—“ Phil still doesn’t know how to put his feelings into words. “It was so—I thought I knew what it would be like because Clint has had his fingers in me enough times, but this was so much more intense.”

Maria looks at him with understanding in her eyes. “Of course it was. It takes a lot of trust, and you put yourself into this vulnerable position you’ve never been in before. And then it means even more for you and Clint because, you know, you’re super in love. And don’t roll your eyes at me, you know it’s true.”

Phil squirms in his chair but doesn’t deny it. Hearing Maria lay it out so clearly helps, especially to hear her acknowledge that the swirl of emotions inside of Phil is perfectly normal. “All of that, yeah. And also…” This is the hardest part. “I may really like it when Clint holds down my hands.”

Maria smiles. “That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“It doesn’t? Took me by surprise.”

“Look, you’re really good at keeping a level head. Some people might even say you’re good at buttoning up your feelings so you can get all the shit done that you take on. And you’re surprised that letting someone be in charge for a change is a turn-on? Especially someone who you feel safe with?”

Phil loves that she doesn’t mince words. “When you put it like that, it makes a lot of sense.” He drops his chin to the top of his knee. “What if Clint thinks that’s weird? That I want that?” _That I need that_.

“Has he said anything?”

“No. He actually did it first when we were messing around. That’s how I figured it out.”

“Alright, so, he’s probably into it, too.” 

Phil hopes so. “I guess I could ask him.”

Maria’s _well, duh_ look says it all.

“Okay, I will ask him.”

Maria leans a little closer to her phone. “You know that it’s not a weird thing to want, right?”

She knows him so well. “Yeah…”

“It’s not weird,” She says firmly.

“It’s not weird.” It feels good to say that out loud.

“You’re going to talk to him about this, and he’ll tell you he’s into it, and then you’re going to have more mind-blowing sex.”

Phil laughs. “Alright.” The squirmy feelings in him start to untangle.

“You feel better now?”

Phil sighs. “A lot. Thank you. You’re—“

“Amazing? Your BFF? A font of wisdom?”

“Yeah, all of that.” He loves her so much. “How about we both get some sleep?”

“You go do that. I’m going to tend to my night-owlishness a little more.”

“Good night.”

“Nite, Phil-bear.”

He smiles as she disconnects the call. 

When he climbs back into bed, Clint is awake. “You were gone for a while,” he says.

Phil lies down. He turns onto his side, mirroring Clint’s pose. “Talked to Maria. I told her about earlier.”

“Okay….”

“Do you mind? If it bothers you, I won’t—“

“I don’t mind. She’s your best friend. Of course you’d wanna talk to her. But…will you talk to me, too?”

Phil wraps an arm around Clint’s waist. “I was already planning on it.”

“Good. Because if I did anything wrong—“

“No, you didn’t. You were wonderful.” Phil needs Clint to understand that. He looks steadily back at Clint while he searches Phil’s eyes. “Really, truly wonderful.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow.” Phil isn’t used to laying all of his feelings bare multiple times in a day. Exhaustion is creeping up on him.

“Maybe just give me a little hint?”

Phil can’t deny him that. If Clint had been the one who snuck out of bed for a late-night call with Nat, Phil would also want to know about the reasons right away rather than sleeping on them. “It’s about how much I like it when you hold me down.”

“Oh.” Clint’s eyes dart away. “I find that really fucking hot. Umm.”

“You do?”

Clint looks back at Phil, heat in his eyes. “You have no idea.”

Phil has to kiss him then, relief mingling with want that springs up sharp and fast. Clint kisses back with equal force. Phil rolls onto his back and drags Clint with him. Clint’s thigh pushes between Phil’s legs, bringing pressure and friction.

Phil reaches for Clint’s hand and pushes it down his body. “Please.” 

Clint’s fingers slip into Phil’s pajama pants. He fists Phil’s cock loosely as it thickens. “Put your hands above your head.”

Phil trembles when Clint’s hand closes over his wrists. Clint remains close, his face just inches away. It’s as if Clint is all around him, enveloping him in warmth and safety.

When Clint’s fingers tighten around Phil in a twisting stroke, Phil groans. Clint doesn’t let up, skipping right past teasing into a precise and relentless rhythm. Phil can’t stop the sounds pushing out of his throat, low desperate gasps that tip over into helpless whimpers. 

Phil comes before he even realizes that it’s about to happen, a needy sound stuttering past his lips.

Clint kisses him, languid and soft, his hand still on Phil’s wrists, the firm hold turning into a gentle caress. Phil sinks into fuzzy post-orgasmic happiness in which nothing matters aside from keeping Clint close. 

Even after they stop kissing, Phil’s eyes remain closed. Clint kisses his cheek, and jaw, and down his neck.

Clint gives Phil’s wrist a squeeze before letting go of them. “So we’re on the same page about this, huh?”

Phil opens his eyes. “Looks like it.” 

Clint stretches out next to him. “Were you worried that I might not be? Since you talked to Maria and all.”

“I thought that—that maybe it’d be weird.”

“Nah.” 

The casual dismissal makes Phil smiles. “That’s what she said, too. And I know that it’s not weird, but I never thought I’d be into that.”

“It helps you, right? To let go? I could tell.”

Phil nods.

“So that’s a good thing. I want that for you. And it makes it better for me, too.”

Clint looks at Phil with such earnestness that Phil’s chest aches with the love he has for Clint. He is so goddamn lucky that they found each other.


	20. Lucky

January is Phil’s least favorite month. It’s the end of the term when some teachers feel the need to squeeze in all kinds of extra work, and it’s dark when they leave for school and almost dark when they come back home. Snow often mixes with icy rain and biting winds. Phil wishes he could hibernate and wake up sometime in March.

One of his end-of-term assignments is a government essay that refuses to cohere. Phil has been working on it for hours, long past when his mom and Clint have gone to bed. There is a point to this essay, but it stubbornly refuses to reveal itself. 

Phil is halfway through another revision when he notices Clint walking toward him. He’s in one of Phil’s sweatshirts, his hair sleep-tousled.

“Hey,” Phil greets him. 

“Still at it?” Clint stands behind Phil, his hands resting on Phil’s shoulders.

Phil sighs.

“That bad, huh?”

Phil groans when Clint’s thumbs dig into his tense muscles. “Impossible.”

“You’ve worked on this for three days. I’m sure it’s in great shape.”

Phil pushes his hands under his glasses. His eyes hurt. “I can’t figure out what my argument is. I know I have some good points and enough evidence, but there’s something missing.” He stops rubbing his eyes and looks at the paragraph he has rewritten at least ten times.

Clint sits in the chair next to Phil. His fingers draw gentle circles on the back of Phil’s neck. “You’ve done enough. Come to bed.”

Phil closes his eyes. Clint’s touch feels so good, and Phil wants to fall into the sleepy warm shelter of Clint’s body. But this essay isn’t up to Phil’s standards, and he hates turning in subpar work.

“Babe.” 

And that’s it—the endearment and the soft pleading in Clint’s voice make Phil’s shoulders slump, and he gives in to his exhaustion. 

“Okay, bed now.” Clint helps Phil stand up. 

“Hit save on the doc for me?” Phil feels unbearably tired.

“Done.” 

The soft snick of the computer lid closing follows. Clint wraps an arm around Phil’s waist and shepherds him up the stairs. Thank goodness Phil brushed his teeth hours ago. He stumbles toward the bed. Putting on pajamas seems like an impossible effort, but Phil knows he’ll be too warm in the sweatpants and long-sleeved shirt he’s in now. He stares at his PJs as if they will magically place themselves on his body.

“C’mon, arms up,” Clint instructs.

Phil does as requested. He sways a bit as Clint helps him out of his clothes and into his PJs. Stretching out in bed feels heavenly. Clint plucks the glasses off Phil’s nose and turns off the light. Already half-asleep, Phil reaches for Clint, pulling him closer. 

**

It seems like only five minutes have gone by when the alarm goes off. 

“Ugh, no, impossible,” Phil mutters. He feels a headache coming on. This day’s going to suck. 

“I hit snooze.” Clint wraps himself around Phil. 

They doze until the alarm goes off again. The headache had a chance to take root, and Phil hisses when he sits up. 

Clint rubs his back. “Bad?”

Phil nods.

Clint tucks his face into Phil’s neck. They sit huddled together for a few more minutes. “Gotta get up now.” 

Phil groans as he swings his legs off the mattress. He hasn’t had a headache this intense in a long time. Even opening his eyes seems like too much of an effort.

“Okay, how about this: I make coffee and breakfast to go, and you get another half an hour in bed. You smell okay, so you can skip showering.”

Phil smiles. “Well, I’m glad I pass the smell test.”

Clint kisses his cheek. “Lie down. I’ll get you when we need to go.”

Phil sinks back into the tangle of sheets. He draws Clint’s pillow against his chest and drifts off. 

Far too soon, a hand shakes his shoulder. “Time to get up,” Clint says. “I got some Advil, PB&J, and coffee. And I picked out some clothes.”

Phil feels slightly more coherent. He gets dressed, grateful that Clint picked out his favorite green sweater, and washes down two Advil with coffee. 

When they get downstairs, his mom looks at him with concern. “Do you want to stay home today, honey?” She brushes a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay.” Phil has a test in History, and he has to hand in that damn Government paper. Thank god for the free period before that class. 

“Alright, but call me if you feel worse, and I’ll come pick you up.”

Phil takes his backpack from her and gives her a brief hug. “Thanks, mom.”

“Clint, make sure that Phil eats lunch even if he claims he isn’t hungry.”

“I promise.”

Phil doesn’t protest because he knows they’re right and he feels too crappy to muster the energy for an objection.

When he opens the door, a gust of snow hits him in the face. “Fuck this day.”

**

During their shared free period, Phil and Clint retreat to their favorite corner of the library. Clint pries the laptop out of Phil’s hands when he tries to revise the essay again and promises to read it over with a critical eye.

“It’s fine,” Clint declares.

“Fine isn’t good enough.” 

Clint gives him a stern look. “It is. For today at least.”

Phil draws a breath to protest, but lets it out without saying anything.

Clint lays a hand on his arm. “It doesn’t have to be perfect every time. You don’t have to be.”

Rationally, Phil knows that. But deep down, he wants all of his work to be as close to perfect as he can make it. “Says the person who hits the bullseye every time.” It’s petulant, but Phil can’t help himself.

Clint doesn’t take the bait. “Yeah, and I worked really hard for that. And I do miss on occasion. And I don’t get an A on every assignment, Mr. ‘My GPA is a rock-steady 4.0’.”

Phil leans into Clint as much as the arm rests of their chairs allow. “I just want this day to be over.” At least it’s Thursday already.

“I know.” Clint noses along Phil’s temple. “Let’s take an hour for a nap or something when we get home. Studying can wait a little longer today.”

Cuddling with Clint on the couch sounds perfect. “Okay.” 

“Remember that one time when you found me asleep in the library? When our first English paper was due?”

Phil remembers that morning well. “Yeah.”

“I slept in the library that night.”

Phil sits up so he can look at Clint. “You did?”

“I did that pretty often when my mom was working the night shift. Being alone in the house with my dad was…not great. And it’s pretty easy to hide out here without anyone noticing. Or climb in through the window in the back with the loose frame. I’d sneak in after my shift and push two of the comfy chairs together.”

It doesn’t surprise Phil all that much that Clint used to sleep in the library. It brings up something that Phil has wondered about, but hasn’t found the right moment to address. “So, your dad…when he got drunk, did he ever…” Phil halts. He doesn’t know how to put this into words.

“Hit me?” Clint asks. 

Phil flinches. “Yeah.”

“I get why you ask. Lotsa people get violent when they’re drunk, but fortunately, my dad would just rant and yell and sometimes smash a plate. But he never hit me or Barney or my mom. Small favors, huh?”

Phil nods, relieved that Clint was spared from that. 

“I still didn’t like being near him when he got into one of his drunk tirades. Hence the library.”

“I’m glad you found a safe place.” It makes Phil wonder what their lives would be like if the accident had never happened, but they still got together. Would Clint have started staying over a lot? Picked Phil’s house as his new escape? Phil likes to think so.

Hearing Clint talk about all of this also puts Phil’s paper dilemma into perspective. “I’ll print this stupid essay and then I can forget about it.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Clint gives Phil a round of applause at a library-appropriate volume when he returns from the printer. It’s silly, but makes Phil feel better. This entire day would be so much harder to get through without Clint.

The final hours of school tick by slowly. Phil welcomes the snow falling on his face when he exits the building. While it felt punishing in the morning, the cold brushes away the cobwebs that have clouded Phil’s brain. He takes a deep breath, reaches for Clint’s hand, and heads toward the parking lot.

**

Things settle down after the first week, or maybe Phil finds his way back into the usual rhythm of school and homework. They pick a new theme for movie night—classic Hollywood—and kick it off with _Casablanca_.

The new year also brings the long-promised archery coach, sponsored by the Bishops. Archery practice gets expanded to two days a week, and on the drives home, Clint gives Phil one-sentence updates even though Phil can tell that Clint is vibrating out of his skin with excitement. It takes three affirmations on Phil’s part to convince Clint that he really wants to hear lengthier updates, but once Clint is sure that Phil isn’t merely polite, he launches into a detailed account of all the coach’s plans for the spring—“we might even go to a CAP-approved tournament in March, er, Collegiate Archery Program, fuck, that’s huge!”—and the new equipment they are getting. Phil soaks up the happiness that Clint radiates during these conversations. Maybe January isn’t all bad.

Clint returns to work after taking winter break off, and on a Wednesday evening, the insistent buzzing of Phil’s phone wakes him from a doze. It’s almost midnight; he must have fallen asleep waiting for Clint to come home from his shift. Clint usually gets back at eleven. Concern flashes through Phil, but the buzzing stems from a text Clint sent, so whatever happened can’t be too bad.

_Can you come downstairs to the laundry room?_

“Huh.” An odd request, but Phil reaches for his glasses and gets out of bed. He reaches for the nearest warm piece of clothing, which turns out to be Clint’s purple fleece. The heating shut off an hour ago and it’s cold in the house.

He quietly makes his way downstairs. Clint sits on the floor in the laundry room, a dog next to him. The dog—a golden lab, Phil thinks—whimpers as Phil comes closer.

“Go slow. He’s afraid of people, I think. Took him a while to let me get close. Maybe crouch?” Clint suggests. He’s still in his uniform, and his jacket is draped over the dog.

Phil gets on his knees and slowly inches forward, holding out a hand for the dog to sniff. It noses along Phil’s hand.

“See, Phil’s no threat. He’s a good guy. You can trust him.” Clint pets the dog’s head.

“How did you find him?”

“I was driving home, and the snow was coming down hard, so I was going slow. Probably would’ve missed him otherwise. He was on the side of the road, not moving. There’s something wrong with his back leg, and I couldn’t leave him. He would have—“ Clint’s voice cracks. “It’s so cold outside.”

“Of course. I would have done the same thing.”

Clint looks relieved. “I wasn’t sure what your mom might say, bringing home a stray.”

“She’ll be glad that you didn’t leave him on the side of the road.”

Clint ducks his head. “Okay, good. He must be hungry. Do we still have some of that plain roasted chicken left? And maybe some water?”

“I’ll go check.” 

Phil pulls the chicken from the fridge. There isn’t much left, but it’s better than nothing. He also pours water into a bowl.

“Here.” He sets both dishes down next to Clint.

Clint picks up a piece of chicken. “Hey, are you hungry?” The dog hesitates before eating the chicken out of Clint’s hand. “It’s good, right? Here, have some more.”

Phil gets a better look at the dog. He only has one eye, perhaps a result from an old injury, and his fur is matted and dirty. It seems like he’s spent some time outside already. Maybe he got injured wandering the roads at night in heavy snowfall. Aside from the initial moment of fear, he seems friendly, and he definitely likes Clint. 

Clint pushes the nearly empty plate closer to Phil. “Why don’t you feed him the last bits? That way he can learn to trust you, too.”

It’s a good suggestion. The dog takes much longer to accept chicken from Phil, but he does. When all the chicken is gone, he turns back to Clint, licking his hand. Seems like they’ve bonded already.

“Do you know if there are any emergency vets in town?” Clint asks. He pushes the water closer to the dog, who laps up some of it.

“I’m not sure, but I can ask Maria. She should still be up. Give me your phone?” Clint holds it out to him. “Thanks. Maria’s family has three dogs and two cats and a few chickens, so they are tight with their vet.” Phil starts a text.

“They do? I didn’t see any pets when we were over for the New Year’s Eve party.”

“Oh, they were all downstairs in the basement with Maria’s parents. Uh, the basement is finished and really nice.” Phil erases what he’s typed because he doesn’t want to send an epic text. Instead, he asks her to call him, emphasizing that it’s urgent but no lives are in danger.

A minute later, the phone screen lights up.

“Hey,” Phil greets her.

“What’s up? Why are you using Clint’s phone?”

“Uh, Clint’s occupied calming down a hurt dog. He rescued him on his way home from Culver’s, and we were wondering if there’s an emergency vet or animal clinic that could take a look at him? There’s something wrong with the dog’s leg.”

“Let me get back to you, okay? I need to do some research.”

“Sure, yeah.” Phil hangs up. Clint looks at him, clearly eager for information. “She’s doing some research and will call back.”

“Okay.” Clint’s shoulders are set in a tight line. This week has been a challenge already—his Physics class is hell, and he worked last night and tonight—and the worry about the dog must be a drain on his emotional reserves.

Phil scoots closer to him. “We’ll figure something out. If we can’t find a vet tonight, we’ll try tomorrow.” He runs a hand down Clint’s back.

“I don’t want him to suffer that long,” Clint whispers.

“I know. I’m sure being inside and getting something to eat helped already.” At least Phil hopes so.

A few minutes later, Maria calls back. Clint leans closer to Phil so he can hear what she says. “Okay, here’s the plan. Our vet was still at her practice because she’s monitoring two sick cats, so she agreed to take a look at the dog. Her name is Cassie Jones. I’ll text you the address.”

“Thank you, that’s amazing. Seriously. We owe you for that.”

“Don’t thank me yet. She’s not doing it for free.”

“I get that. I should go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Keep me updated. Bye!”

“Bye.” Phil lets out a breath. “Guess we’re going to the vet.” He hopes the snow has let up, at least, because he doesn’t want to drive through that.

“Hear that, buddy? You’ll get all better now.” Clint strokes over the dog’s back.

“I should tell my mom.”

“What if she tells us not to go?” 

Phil stands. “Then we’ll have to make a good case for why we have to go.”

Fierce determination flashes through Clint’s eyes. “Alright.”

Phil walks upstairs. “Mom?” He calls out as he knocks on her door. He lets a few seconds pass, then calls out louder. “Mom?” He opens the door.

His mom sits up and switches on the lamp on the nightstand. “Are you hurt? Is Clint okay?”

“We’re fine.” He walks up to the edge of her bed. “Clint found a dog on the way home. He, um, brought it here, and we’ve found a vet that has agreed to take a look at him.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. It’s the Hills’ vet. Clint and I can drive there.”

She frowns. “This can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I think the dog’s leg is broken, and I’m pretty sure that Clint will take him to the vet no matter what you say.” Phil hopes that isn’t too confrontational. His gut tells him he’s right about this.

His mom’s face softens. “Clint’s already attached to the dog, hmm?”

Phil nods, a little surprised that his mom came to that conclusion, but then again, Clint does wear his heart on his sleeve.

“I’ll come with you.” She holds up her hand to stop any objections in their tracks. “I’m not going to let you and Clint drive there by yourselves on a snowy night.”

“Okay.” To be honest, Phil is glad to hear that. It’ll be good to have her along.

**

They bundle the dog into a blanket. Clint carries him out to the car and takes the backseat to keep a close eye on him.

The snowfall slows them down, but with few cars on the road, the drive is smooth enough. Cassie unlocks the door to her practice and ushers Clint and the dog into the exam room. Phil and his mom settle into the small waiting room.

Phil tries to keep his eyes open, but he’s so tired, and his mom’s shoulder is so inviting.

He startles awake at a woof and voices coming closer. The dog appears first, hobbling along with a cast on his leg, followed by Clint and Cassie. 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Clint says, voice shaky. He holds out his hand toward Phil, beckoning, and Phil doesn’t hesitate to pull Clint into a brief hug.

“It’s a simple break and should heal just fine,” Cassie confirms. “I need you to fill out this form, Clint, and then I need a credit card. I have some cans in the back that should tide you over until you can get more food for him.”

Clint takes the clipboard and sits down next to Phil’s mom. Phil takes the seat on the other side of Clint.

“Will you be okay paying for this?” Phil’s mom asks.

“Yes. It’s fine.” Clint’s tone suggests that he won’t argue about this. 

If Phil found a dog who’d been left behind he’d feel responsible for it, too. Not to mention that loss and abandonment have shaped Clint’s life in ways that Phil is still only beginning to understand. If Clint can help, he won’t leave anyone—or any dog—behind.

“The form asks for a name,” Clint says. “What do you think about Lucky?”

“He’s definitely lucky that you found him,” Phil replies. 

“And that he was found by someone who will take good care of him,” his mom adds.

Clint writes down the name. “Does that—does that mean I can keep him?” He glances up at Phil’s mom.

“Of course.”

Clint pushes pen and clipboard at Phil, who nearly drops both, and then pulls Phil’s mom into hug. “Thank you.”

“Sweetheart, of course. Did you think I’d make you let go of Lucky?”

Clint pulls back. “Wasn’t sure. It’s not like I asked if I could bring him home, and maybe you don’t want a dog around. It’s your house, so…” He shrugs.

“We’re keeping him,” she affirms.

Clint looks at Phil. “Guess we have dog now.”

Phil smiles. “Yeah, we do.”

**

They settle Lucky on a few blankets in the living room to make sure he doesn’t accidentally tumble down the stairs. 

“I’m heading back to bed,” Phil’s mom announces. “Turn off all the lights, okay?”

“We will,” Phil replies.

Clint strokes over Lucky’s head and back. “I’ll sleep down here. Don’t want him to feel alone.”

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Phil asks. He isn’t sure why he’s asking. Of course he’s staying with Clint. They haven’t slept apart in months, and Phil isn’t keen to find out what happens if they do.

“You don’t have to, but I’d like it if you did,” Clint says softly.

“I’ll get some pillows and blankets.”

Phil digs his old camping mattress out of the closet, grabs their pillows and the comforter. They lie down as close to Lucky as they can. Lucky is fast asleep already, letting out soft snuffles every once in a while. Clint is on his side facing him, his hand curling into Lucky’s fur.

Phil folds himself around Clint, who reaches for Phil’s hand and tucks it against his chest. As always, it fills Phil with a deep happiness to close out a day with Clint in his arms. Sometimes he wonders if they depend on each other too much, and what happens when Phil goes off to college, but for now, Phil buries his face in Clint’s shoulder and lets sleep take a hold of him.

**

The next night, Lucky whines so pitifully when Phil and Clint head upstairs that Clint carries him up to their room. The next day, he buys a dog bed. Phil suspects that once the cast is off, Lucky will end up at the foot of their bed, which Phil won’t mind, except for when he and Clint have sex.

The first time Lucky sticks his head through the curtains to investigate what all the noises are about, things end rather quickly even though Phil was about half a minute away from a spectacular orgasm thanks to Clint’s talented tongue and fingers. Clint argues that “he’s just a dog, he has no idea what’s going on,” but Phil feels weird and exposed, and then feels embarrassed about that until Clint draws him into his arms and reassures him that this is okay and they’ll figure it out.

Lucky gets used to their sex noises, frequent as they are, and Phil mellows to the idea of a curious snout peeking through the curtains. Jasper and Maria are delighted by the new member of Friday’s movie nights and are greeted with enthusiastic tail wagging every week. 

The end of January brings report cards and a few days off. Phil fidgets until he sees definitive proof of his GPA holding up, Clint’s face lights up with quiet pride when he sees his grades, and Jasper announces that he can slack off for the rest of the year, but everyone knows that he won’t. The work ethic their little group developed over the last few years is too deeply ingrained. They celebrate with donuts and ice cream and special dog treats that Jasper ordered from a bakery in Madison.

After Lucky’s cast comes off, he zooms around the backyard for ten minutes, and, as Phil predicted, claims the foot of the bed as his favorite spot. Phil doesn’t mind one bit. He adores Lucky, but there is no question that Lucky is Clint’s dog. Knowing that Clint has Lucky eases his worries about going away to college. Sometimes Phil wonders if Clint will even miss him all that much, but then Clint pulls Phil into secluded corner of the library just to kiss the breath out of him, or mumbles “love you” into Phil’s ear as they’re falling asleep, or brings a milkshake home for Phil after a late shift, and then Phil knows that being apart will be hard on both of them.


	21. Best-laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real life, the Early Decision announcements for Brown and NYU happen in mid-December, but I moved them later for story purposes.

As luck would have it, the early decision announcements for Brown and NYU fall on a Friday in early February. Phil has been jittery all day, but promised Jasper that they’d check their status together at the beginning of movie night.

“Ready?” Jasper’s finger hovers over the keyboard.

Phil’s laptop sits next to Jasper’s on the coffee table. They have opened the respective admissions pages, and Maria and Clint are huddled on either side of them.

“Ready.”

“On three. One, two, three!”

Phil hits reload. Jasper lets out a “Fuck, yes!” next to him and throws both arms into the air. Phil stares at the sentence on his screen: “A final decision on your application is deferred.” 

“What does that mean?” Clint asks as Maria and Jasper hug.

“It means…” Phil’s throat feels like sandpaper. “I didn’t get in. There’s a chance. With regular admission. But it’s slim.”

Clint leans into him, one hand settling on the back of Phil’s neck. “I’m sorry. I know you worked your ass off for this.”

Phil nods, his brain blank.

Jasper and Maria take note of the silence on the other end of the couch. “What’s going on, Phil?”

Phil turns the laptop toward her. 

“What? How?” Maria asks as Jaspers exclaims, “That’s some grade-A bullshit.”

Phil shrugs. 

Maria squeezes past Jasper and envelops Phil in a tight hug. Phil wraps his arms around her back, clinging to her. If there’s one person who fully understands what this rejection means, it’s her. She’s the first one who heard about Phil’s dream of applying to Brown, the one who has been there through all planning and preparing. 

“You did everything you could.” She gently lets go of him.

“Yeah, well. Wasn’t enough, apparently.” 

“Bull- _shit_ ,” Jasper says again. “No one’s worked harder these last four years than you.”

Maria looks at him, understanding and sadness in her eyes. It helps a little. If she hadn’t gotten into Mount Holyoke, she would have been devastated, too.

“But there’s still a chance, right?” Clint asks.

“Theoretically,” Phil replies.

“It’s not a great chance,” Maria expands. “Brown’s insanely competitive, and you have a much better shot during Early Decision.”

“But still. You still got a shot, Phil.”

Phil appreciates Clint’s enthusiasm, but he can’t muster much faith. He slumps back into the couch. He thinks back on all the extracurriculars and all the long nights spent studying. All the weekends, too. He enjoyed most of it, sure, but there were weeks when he was running on empty and the only thought that got him through was the possibility of getting into his dream school. He thought he had a decent chance.

Clint leans into Phil. “D’you want me to make you a hot chocolate?”

It’s such a sweet gesture, but the idea of eating or drinking anything turns Phil’s stomach. “Maybe later.” He rests his head on Clint’s shoulder. Clint’s arm comes around him and Phil lets himself be coaxed into being held. Lucky jumps up on the couch and drapes himself across Phil’s thighs. Phil winds a hand into Lucky’s soft fur.

“Do you still want to do movie night?” Maria asks. “We can go if you’d rather be alone.” Jasper nods. 

The last thing Phil wants is being left alone with his thoughts. “No, it’s fine. More than fine. I—I’d like it if we just pretended it’s a normal Friday night.”

“Of course,” Maria replies. 

“Expect maybe…” Phil starts.

“Shoot,” Jasper encourages.

“I know we were going to watch _All About Eve_ , but I can’t do a two-and-a-half hour downer of a movie right now. Can we switch with next week and watch _Pillow Talk_?”

Everyone makes assenting noises.

Maria sets up the movie, and Jasper disappears into the kitchen to make popcorn. 

By the middle of the movie, Phil has stretched out on the couch, his head on a pillow in Clint’s lap and his feet pressed up against Maria’s legs. There’s just enough room for Lucky to curl up against Phil’s front. Clint eases his hand halfway under the collar of Phil’s sweatshirt, and his thumb swipes over Phil’s nape every once in a while. Being close to the people (and dog) he loves helps, even if it can’t take away the hollow burn in his chest completely.

At the end of the night, he gets another hug from Maria and a friendly shoulder clap from Jasper. His friends are the best. 

When Phil’s mom comes home, she takes one look at Phil and opens her arms. He is only too glad to get a hug from her. 

“It’ll be okay, Phil-bear,” she says while stroking a hand over his hair.

Phil’s eyes burn and he has to swallow a few times. He feels stupid for wanting to cry over this; in the grand scheme of things, it’s not that big of a deal. Besides, he has Madison waiting for him, and surely some other schools will accept him, too.

Lucky lets out an inquisitive woof and sits next to them.

“Seems like someone would like to be taken outside,” Phil’s mom says. Another woof follows.

It makes Phil smile. Lucky and his mom have gotten into the habit of a short walk just before they all head to bed. He lets go of her. “I’m alright.”

His mom looks at Clint. “Make sure that he is.”

“’Course, yeah.” 

“Come on, then, Lucky.”

As they make their way out the door, Clint steps close to Phil. “Bed?”

“Yeah.” Getting under the covers with Clint sounds heavenly.

They walk upstairs, and Phil takes the first turn in the bathroom. While Clint takes his turn, Phil changes into PJs. He reaches for a new T-shirt to wear to bed when his eyes fall onto his state debate championship shirt from last year. That was one of the hardest weeks of his life.

Phil’s thoughts drift, and he nearly startles when Clint says, “You gonna wear that? I’ll keep you warm if you don’t.” An eyebrow-waggle follows.

Phil looks down at the shirt in his hands. He pulls it over his head. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m up for anything tonight.”

Clint gives him a fond look. “I was just teasing. Wanna hold you, though, if that’s alright.”

“Please. I really—“ _need you_. For some reason, Phil can’t finish that sentence. “Yes.” He likes to think that Clint can guess what he meant to say.

There’s a knock on the door, followed by Phil’s mom saying, “Someone is very insistent about being let into the room.”

“That’s fine,” Clint calls out.

The door opens and Lucky bounds in, heading straight for the bed.

“Goodnight!” Phil’s mom closes the door again.

“Night, mom!” Phil replies.

They settle into bed, Phil draped across Clint, with Lucky snoozing at their feet. “You have to work tomorrow, right?”

“Early shift, too.” Clint sighs.

Phil would love to sleep in with Clint. Hell, spend the whole day in bed. He feels entitled to a little wallowing. “You’ve been working a lot lately.”

“Just picking up shifts for people out sick with winter colds. It’s a good way to build up my nest egg.”

“Planning a big purchase?” Clint has hinted at getting his own car a few times.

“Mostly saving up for when I need to move out in the fall.”

Wait. Move out? “What do you mean?” Phil props himself up.

“Y’know, when you’re off to college.”

Phil frowns. “You want to move out then?” 

“Maybe not ‘want to,’ exactly, but I’m sure your mom wants me out of her hair then.” Clint’s eyes dart off to the side.

Phil knows with absolute certainty that Clint is wrong about that. How long has Clint assumed this? “You don’t have to move out when I go to college.”

Clint’s gaze slowly returns to Phil. “No?” 

Phil wants to say, _Of course not, this is your home, too_ , but he isn’t sure how Clint would take that. “Absolutely not. In fact, I bet she’s glad that one of us will still be around.”

“Okay.” The wheels are clearly turning in Clint’s mind. “Can you ask her? Just to be sure.”

“I will. But I can guarantee that she’ll say that you can stay as long as you want.”

Clint bites his lip. “Okay. That’s. Wow. That helps a lot.”

Phil leans down for a kiss. He only means it as a quick reassurance, but Clint winds a hand into Phil’s hair, and his lips part, and the kiss goes on for a while. It rights something in Phil, and Clint lets out a small sigh.

“Love you,” Phil whispers. “Thanks for being there for me.”

Clint draws Phil down against his chest. “Always.”

**

Phil wakes up alone. He knew he would, but it sucks more than usually when Clint heads off to work early. Even Lucky has already left the bed. Phil is half-tempted to roll over and sleep more, but avoidance isn’t his thing. 

Taking a shower helps a little. When he gets downstairs, his mom sits at the dining room table with her laptop. Lucky lies by her feet and perks up at the sight of Phil. “I got you a muffin.”

Phil spots the bag from his favorite bakery on the counter. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, but I wanted to.”

“Thank you.” It means a lot to Phil that his mom headed out early to cheer him up. When Phil opens the bag, Lucky wanders over in the hope of falling food. Phil runs a hand over his head. “Silly dog,” he says with much affection. 

As Phil makes breakfast, Lucky weaves between his legs. “You’d think no one ever feeds you. Poor neglected you.” Lucky woofs in assent. “Yeah, yeah.”

When Phil carries his breakfast to the table and still hasn’t dropped anything, Lucky settles by his feet with a huff. 

“So…” Phil starts.

His mom closes her laptop. “So?”

“I wanted to ask you about Madison. You liked it there, right?”

“I had a great time. The classes are probably very different now, so I can’t be of much help in that respect.”

Phil smiles. Of course she’d think that the academic offerings would be foremost in his mind, and a few months ago, that would have been the only thing he cared about. “That’s okay. I have a good idea of what they have to offer. You and dad, you met there, right, first semester?”

She nods. “I told you that story a million times when you were little.”

“I know, but maybe tell me the more grown-up version?” His mom laughs. “Ugh, not like that, just…did you ever think that you—what I mean is, when were you sure that he’s, you know, the one for you?” Phil looks down at his mug. 

“Well, I didn’t know right away. That took a while. At first, I thought we’d just date a couple of months to get that first college romance out of our systems. And then—“ She gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Then it’s suddenly a year and a half later, and we’re still together, and we’re talking about moving off-campus together.”

“Which you did.”

Her eyes come back into focus. “Which we did. And after a few months of living together and things going well, that’s when I thought, this could be it.”

“So when were you sure?”

She smiles. “When we went into senior year and I could not imagine a future without him.”

Phil’s heart twists. His parents got married a year after they graduated, and as far as he knows, they were always happy together. 

His mom reaches out to pat his hand. “Are you thinking about you and Clint?”

Phil nods. 

“I thought you might be. No one knows what the future holds, but I like to think it has good things in store for you two.”

Of course she’d say that. She’s his mom, after all. “You don’t think that high school sweethearts is so—so—“ Trite. Stupid. Unrealistic.

“Such a cliché?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a cliché for a reason. If there was no truth to it, it wouldn’t exist.”

Phil slumps back in his chair. “I—I just worry.” That’s not easy for him to admit. “About what happens when I move away, and we can’t see each other for months, depending on where I end up, and what if we drift apart and—”

“Let me stop you right there. Who knows what will happen. Maybe focus on the here and now for the moment?” She gives him a kind look. 

“I guess so.” Phil knows he won’t be able to stop worrying completely, but he agrees that it’s more productive—and probably better for his relationship with Clint—to enjoy what they have. 

“Good.” She stands up and opens her arms. “Come here.”

“Mom, I don’t need—”

“I insist.”

Phil grumbles, but stands and lets himself be hugged. It helps more than Phil expected and he holds on longer than he normally does.

“There’s one more thing,” Phil says once he lets go.

“What is it?”

“Clint thinks that he needs to move out when I go to college.”

His mom frowns. “Of course he doesn’t.”

“That’s what I said, but can you tell him, too? I think he needs to hear it from you to believe it.”

“I will.” She rubs Phil’s shoulders. “Clint can stay here for as long as he wants.”

**

Clint comes home in a whirlwind—“Got you a shake! Gotta a take a shower! Lucky, no, stop, argh!”—and bounds up the stairs, the dog close at his heels.

Phil is pathetically happy that Clint is home.

They take a long walk with Lucky that involves finding the perfect stick to throw and then throwing said stick approximately thirty times in a row. Phil feels calmer when they walk up their driveway. Exhausted and slightly muddy, too, much like Lucky, who is not a fan of having his paws rinsed off with ice-cold water from the outside faucet.

All of them retreat upstairs early. Lucky takes up his usual spot at the foot of the bed, and Phil cuddles under the comforter with Clint.

In the spirit of moving forward, Phil says, “My mom’s birthday is in two weeks and I want to do something nice for her.”

“D’you want to do something together?”

“That was the thought, yes.”

Clint props his head up. “When exactly is her birthday?”

“February 14.”

Clint smiles. “A Valentine’s Day baby, wow.”

Phil blinks. Valentine’s Day. Right. That exists, too. The day has never been on Phil’s radar because he associates the day with his mom’s birthday, and he’s never dated anyone before, so had no reason to ponder the romantic dimensions. But now there’s Clint, and Phil likes doing nice things for him. “Uh. Yeah.” He tries to get his thoughts back on track. “We usually order take-out, and I always get her a box of salted caramels from a little store in Chicago. In terms of a gift, I pick something from a list that Maggie sends to me. She’s really good at writing down everything that my mom mentions over the course of a year, and then she shares it with all of my mom’s friends and me.”

Clint’s expression softens. “That’s so nice of her. D’you think it’s okay if we get her a gift together?”

Warmth blooms in Phil’s chest. “I’d love that. I also thought we could make a cake and decorate the house a little? Like a very small surprise party.”

“Yeah, let’s do that. She’s helped me so much, and she’s so great about us, and about me living here. Maybe we could invite some of her friends, too?”

Phil didn’t consider that. “Sure, we can try. They might be busy with work or something. I have Maggie’s number, and she can spread the word.”

“Awesome. Maybe Jasper can suggest a recipe for the cake.”

“Oh no, asking him would be a mistake. He’d suggest a five-layer cake that takes three days to make and requires chocolate imported from Paris or something.”

Clint shrugs. “Your mom deserves that.”

“Yeah, she does, but honestly, I do not have the baking skills. I was thinking we could get a mix and then do our best with decorating it.”

Clint ponders that for a moment. “Okay, that’s probably the way to make sure that we actually have a cake.”

“Exactly.”

Clint’s eyes light up. “Oh, let’s also get some streamers and balloons. There’s probably a ton to choose from because of Valentine’s Day.”

It’s endearing how much Clint is into the idea of giving Phil’s mom the best birthday possible. “I like that.”

“It’s a plan.” Clint lies back down, fitting himself close to Phil’s side.

Phil slips a hand under Clint’s T-shirt to draw random patterns on his back. Now that one plan for the fourteenth is squared way, Phil wonders if he should leave it at that. Maybe just having the birthday party for his mom is enough, and they don’t need to make a big deal out of the day’s other associations.


	22. Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a hint of D/S here, but neither Phil nor Clint think of it in these terms.

“You have that pinched look on your face that tells me you’re worried about something,” Maria says when they’re putting the classroom back into its usual set-up after the GSA meeting.

Phil sighs. He’s gone back and forth about asking for her advice. “It’s about Valentine’s Day.” He slides a chair toward a desk.

“Ah, yeah, that’s coming up.”

“Next week. And I don’t know if I should do something for Clint? Get him a card? I’ve never dated anyone around Valentine’s Day, and you know that it’s my mom’s birthday, too, so we’ve always celebrated that. But it’s different this year, obviously, and I don’t know if Clint hates Valentine’s Day, or maybe he’s sort of indifferent, but would appreciate something? Or…” Phil realizes that he’s pacing.

Maria stops Phil with a hand to his chest. “You know, for someone who was vigorously nodding along with Jamie’s dissection of V-Day as a cis-het capitalist ideology about thirty minutes ago, you seem rather conflicted.” 

“I did, and they’re right.”

“Of course they are right, and yet.”

“And yet indeed.” Phil pushes the last desk into its spot. “What do you think?”

Maria shuts down the computer and projector. “You need to talk to Clint.”

Phil knew she was going to say that, and he knows that she’s right. But he also wants to avoid what has the potential to be an awkward conversation. What if Clint truly hates V-Day? Deep down, Phil knows that he wants to do something nice for Clint on that day. In part because he always wants to do something nice for Clint, but also because he’s a romantic sap who’s head over heels for his boyfriend, and isn’t Valentine’s the day when you can embrace that?

“Talking to Clint it is.”

“It’ll be fine.”

Phil wishes he was that confident. “How do you know that?”

“Because you and Clint are…” She wiggles her hand.

Phil raises his eyebrows.

“You know, you’re in love, and you trust each other, and you’re good together.”

Phil bites back a smile. He and Clint are all of these things. 

Maria gives his shoulder a nudge, “Yeah, exactly. Text me if you need a debrief after.”

“I will.”

**

As always, Phil and Clint settle at the dining table after dinner to do their homework. When it seems like Clint is taking a break after finishing one assignment, Phil asks, “So, I’ve been wondering…”

Clint looks up at him. “Yeah?”

“How do you feel about Valentine’s Day?”

“Uhh. The first thing that comes to mind are the little chalky candy hearts that kids passed around in elementary school.”

That’s not a very helpful answer, but also suggests that Clint doesn’t have a burning hatred for the holiday. “Yeah, those are terrible. What about the whole romantic chocolate-and-flowers part? Any thoughts on that?”

Clint shifts in his seat. “Not really. What do you think?”

Phil fixes his eyes on a frayed part of Clint’s collar. “I’ve never been with anyone when Valentine’s has come around.”

“Same.”

That isn’t helpful at all. Phil forces his gaze up to Clint’s face. ”Should we do something, then, or….”

It takes Clint a painfully long time to answer. “I dunno. We know we love each other.” A tingle shoots through Phil at Clint’s matter-of-fact observation, like it’s an unshakeable, fundamental truth. “So do we need a designated day to prove that to one another? I’d rather show you every day.” He reaches across the table for Phil’s hand. 

Phil slides his hand into Clint’s and holds on. They’ve done this so many times, and they’ve done far more intimate things together, but it still feels special. Such a little gesture, but to Phil it says so much about their desire to be close to one another. “That works for me.”

Clint squeezes Phil’s hand, then lets go and opens his Physics textbook to get started on the next part of his homework.

**

The surprise birthday party is a success. Phil’s mom remained oblivious to all the planning going on around her—thank you, car rides to and from school—and claps her hands over her mouth when she comes home from work on the fourteenth to a house full of people. Nearly all of her friends were able to make it, and Phil and Clint spent a few hours putting up an unholy number of heart-shaped red and pink streamers and blowing up balloons with sweet messages on them. 

There are hugs, and gifts, and she blows out the candles on the cake in one go. She compliments Clint and Phil on the cake, which turned out much nicer than the box mix suggested. Clint made some tweaks and cut it into layers, which they filled with frosting. Phil found a YouTube tutorial for fancy cake decorations. All in all, it’s a big hit.

At some point, Phil’s mom pulls him and Clint aside. “I wanted to have a quiet moment with my boys.”

Clint ducks his head and Phil wonders what this is about.

“Thank you for organizing all of this. I’m impressed you managed to corral everyone. That’s almost an impossible feat, especially in the middle of the week.”

“That was all Phil and his determination,” Clint says.

“And Clint being very charming,” Phil adds.

His mom laughs with delight. “Whatever you did, I’m glad it worked. The cake was wonderful, too.”

Phil feels pleased. “We made that together this afternoon.”

“You two are a good team.” She beckons them closer. 

They shuffle into her arms for a slightly awkward three-way hug.

She lets go of Phil, but keeps a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “Indulge me for another minute. Birthday privilege.” She looks at Clint. “The last few months have been difficult, but I’m so glad to have you here. This is your home now, too, if you want, for as long as you want. Even after you graduate from high school and Phil is off to college.”

Clint looks stunned. He nods, and steps back into the hug. Phil’s mom whispers something in his ear that Phil can’t make out, but the words make Clint squeeze his eyes shut and hug her tighter.

Phil’s heart aches. These are the two most important people in his life, and seeing how much they care for one another isn’t something that Phil takes for granted. He’s grateful that his mom never hesitated to take Clint in and make him part of the family, and that Clint opened himself up to trusting her.

** 

Later that evening, Phil gets out the small gift bag while Clint is in the bathroom. He sits down on the bed with it. Lucky sniffs it with interest, and Phil pushes him away three times before sternly commanding him off the bed. Lucky looks insulted, but settles down on the floor.

Phil is nervous; what if Clint hates this?

Clint comes back and doesn’t notice the bag until he nearly sits down on it. “What’s that?”

“It’s for you. I know we said we wouldn’t do anything for Valentine’s Day, but I saw this, and I wanted…” _to do something nice for you because you deserve all the nice things in the world_. “I fully admit to being a hopeless romantic, so.” Phil hands the bag to Clint.

Clint peers inside it. “Oh.” It comes out soft and breathy. He pulls the little teddy bear out of the bag. The bear has a big chocolate heart in his paws. 

“It’s from the same store as the salted caramels for my mom. I saw it on the website when I ordered her box, and it was an impulse buy, and—“

Clint stops the flood of words with a hand to Phil’s arm. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You do?”

Clint nods. He runs a thumb over the bear’s ears. “I’ve never actually had one before. A teddy bear.”

That breaks Phil’s heart. He doesn’t know how to react to that other than hugging Clint, taking care not to squish the bear between them. Clint sighs into his neck, and they hold each other for a while. 

Clint carefully detaches the chocolate heart and sets it on the shelf behind them. “Let’s save that for a moment when we need an energy boost after some strenuous activity.” He winks, and Phil laughs. “And I’ll keep this little guy right here.” He tucks the teddy next to his pillow. “If that’s alright.”

“Of course. Of course that’s alright.” Phil’s throat feels oddly tight.

“So, umm, full disclosure, I got you something, too.” Clint bends down to rummage under the bed.

“You did?”

Clint shrugs. “Guess we’re both hopeless romantics. It’s not as fancy as your gift, though.” He straightens, a paper bag in his hand. “Here.”

Phil opens the bag and sees a packet of gas station donuts. A smile spreads over his face. “My favorites.”

“I saw them, and immediately thought of you, and you never buy them for yourself.”

“Thank you.” Phil kisses Clint, intending something short and quick, but Clint reels him in and tips him over onto the bed, shifting his weight on top of Phil.

Maybe not something short and quick, then. Phil has no objections to that.

**

When the alarm goes off the next morning, Phil goes from sleepy to awake in an instant thanks to the nervous energy shooting through him. Planning the birthday party had diverted the energy, but with that over and done with, all that’s looming ahead takes center stage again: prep for the state debate championships, prep for Maria’s Model UN tournament, college admissions announcements, prom committee kicking into high gear, plus all the regular homework, quizzes, essays, and extracurriculars.

If he lies there for another fifteen minutes until their second alarm goes off, his thoughts will keep spinning, so he might as well get up. He makes it as far as swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He already feels exhausted.

“Where’re you going?” Clint mumbles.

“Thought I’d get a head start on the day.” 

Clint moves, kneeling behind him. His arms come around Phil, drawing him into the shelter of his body. “You okay?”

Phil should have seen that question coming. They only skip the fifteen minutes of sleepy cuddles if they must, and there was no real reason to do that this morning. “Yeah.”

Clint hooks his chin on Phil’s shoulder. “Wanna try that again?”

Clint knows him too well. “Just a lot on my mind. Stupid school stuff.”

“Uhuh. School stuff is never stupid to you, but I’m not gonna pry.” He rubs a hand over Phil’s chest. “I’ll listen no matter how stupid it seems.”

Phil turns his head to kiss Clint’s cheek. “I know. Thank you.”

“Anytime. Sit with me for another minute?”

Phil closes his eyes. “I can do that.” He sinks back into the familiar warmth of Clint’s hold.

**

Phil clings to the prospect of Friday movie night like it’s a lifeline, and when he settles on the couch with Clint on one side and Maria on the other, he feels his jaw unclench for the first time in days. 

They watch _Rebel Without a Cause_. Phil gets swept up in the characters’ struggle with love, longing, and social expectations. How anyone could watch this without realizing that Plato is hopelessly in love with Jim is beyond Phil, and he’s sad and angry at how their story ends. Considering that Clint kisses him with soft desperation the moment the credits roll, he thinks he isn’t the only one. He knows there are people in this town, even at his school, who condemn him to the deepest pit in hell for being in love with Clint, but fortunately, Phil hasn’t had to face too much of that hatred head-on, and he’s grateful for that.

Maybe Phil imagines it, but Clint holds him a little tighter when they go to sleep, and he’s grateful for that, too.

**

The weekend doesn’t bring much respite. Phil regrets volunteering to be treasurer for the prom committee because he spends much of Saturday and Sunday sorting through bids from various vendors for lighting, catering, the DJ, flowers, and the million other things they need for the dance. The budget is outrageous and mostly fueled by wealthy parents’ donations. Phil wonders if they can integrate a charity raffle into the dance. If someone can give four figures for their flower budget, they might also have the spare cash to donate to some local organizations.

The following week continues in much the same way: during the Prom committee meeting, a fight breaks out over two shades of blue that look identical to Phil, his debate coach introduces a new strategy that doesn’t seem to improve anything aside from a lot of extra work, and his latest French test comes back with a B+. Phil cannot even remember the last time he got a B. Even study group doesn’t offer its usual refuge because Jasper and Maria beg off for valid and understandable reasons, so Phil and Clint decide they might as well go home and study there. 

Phil is ready to jump out of his skin, feeling jittery all over. He hands the car keys to Clint, who picks them up without further comment.

Something needs to happen that allows Phil to take back the reins of his life. There’s only one thing he can think of. “I need you to tie me up and fuck me until I forget my name,” he says.

The car swerves. “Jesus, give a guy a little warning next time. But also, thank fucking god, Phil, I thought you were going to climb the walls or find a void to scream into what with all the tension in you.”

Phil lets out a shaky laugh. “You noticed that, huh?”

“Kinda hard not to.” Clint glances at him. “We have a few hours this afternoon before your mom comes home from work.”

“That’d be good.” Phil takes a deep breath. “I need to not think for a while.”

Clint squeezes his thigh. “I get it. We can manage that.”

When they get home, Lucky is excited to have them back earlier than usual. They let him out in the backyard for a few minutes, then treat him to a new chew toy so they can retreat upstairs without any canine interruptions.

Clint closes the door to their room behind them. “C’mere for a sec.”

Phil gladly steps into Clint’s embrace. It’s nice to know that for the next little while, it’s just them in this room with the world remaining outside.

Clint lets go and leads Phil over to the bed. “I just wanna talk about this before we get into it.”

That doesn’t seem necessary. Phil trusts Clint, after all. But if Clint wants to talk, then they’ll talk. “Sure.”

They sit cross-legged, facing each other. Clint takes Phil’s hand. “Okay, first, you need to relax at least a little or the whole fucking thing isn’t going to happen.” 

Phil nods. He’s aware of that; he’s wound tight as a bow.

“Is there anything I can do to help you get there?”

Phil doesn’t want to make any more decisions. He’s already had to make so many decisions lately. His mind is blank. “Let’s get into bed and see where it goes?” 

Clint gives him an indulgent look. “Alright. What do you want me to use to tie you up?”

Right. Phil didn’t think that far. “You could use one of my ties?” 

Clint walks over to the closet. “Does it matter which one?”

“There’s a dark green one that should work.”

“Oh, yeah, that feels nice.” Clint brings it over to the bed. “Alright. Safeword?”

“We don’t need—“

“Humor me.”

Picking a safeword makes the whole thing seem far kinkier than it is, and he can’t imagine Clint ever doing anything that would make Phil want to put an instant stop to things. But Phil knows that Clint is right. “Um, giraffe.”

Clint laughs. “That’s great.” He kisses Phil, soft and sweet. “Wanna get naked and make out to get started?”

Phil doesn’t need to be asked twice. 

As soon as Clint settles his weight on Phil and presses his wrists down, Phil knows that this will help. They trade kisses, some deep and longing, others a short brush of lips, as Clint’s hands roam everywhere: up and down Phil’s arms, down his side, along his thighs. All the while, Clint’s hips bear down against Phil, building friction and heat. Phil moves with him, and slowly, the tight knot inside him starts to loosen. 

Clint notices, too, and reaches for the lube. He takes his time in opening Phil up, teasing and exploring as Phil’s want skyrockets.

Finally, Clint says, “Gonna tie your hands now. You want to stay like this?”

Phil hesitates. 

“Tell me.”

“If I got on my hands and knees, would that be okay?”

Clint swallows. “Fuck, yeah, that works for me. And just to be clear, you want me to be in charge?”

Phil squirms with want. “Please.”

“Alright. Sit up, and I’ll get started with the tie.”

Clint is gentle in tying Phil’s wrists, making sure the knots feel tight but aren’t cutting off Phil’s circulation. Phil turns onto his knees, stretching out his arms, and Clint secures the other end of the tie on the sturdy lattice work that spans the bottom shelf at the top of the bed. There’s just enough give for Phil to get on his elbows.

Clint leans over him. “Good?” His fingers dip back into Phil for two strokes.

Phil groans, which seems answer enough for Clint, who moves away. Phil hears the crinkle of the condom wrapper, and then Clint is there, pushing into him. Phil breathes through those first overwhelming moments, focusing on Clint’s hand on his lower back and how good this will all feel in a minute.

When Clint bottoms out, he slides his hand all the way up Phil’s spine. Phil’s shoulders slump, tension melting out of them. Clint’s palm settles over Phil’s nape with just enough pressure to let Phil feel it. Phil’s gut twists with pleasure. This is perfect.

Clint’s strokes are steady and deep, one after the other. Phil closes his eyes, helpless moans slipping from him. There’s a twinge in Phil’s thighs already, but he ignores it. 

Clint leans down to kiss Phil’s neck. “So good, babe.”

“Stay close,” Phil pleads.

Clint’s elbows settle next to Phil’s, bracketing him. Phil bows his head, forehead resting against the mattress. He’s enveloped by Clint, infused with a sensation of being protected and safe. When Clint’s fingers close around Phil’s bound wrists, everything inside Phil unwinds and settles. Phil lets out a sob.

Clint stops moving. “Need a break?”

“Don’t stop, please, I’m okay,” Phil mumbles.

Clint kisses his shoulder, then picks up the pace again, gentler than before, thumb stroking over Phil’s skin, skimming under the knotted silk.

Phil lets himself fall, buoyed on the certainty that Clint is there to catch him, no matter what. He makes no effort to stifle the moans and sobs pushing out of his throat, or to stop himself from getting closer to tumbling over the edge.

Clint gets louder, too, all sharp gasps and deep groans as he pushes into Phil with short snaps of his hips.

When Phil comes, it’s almost an afterthought. Clint brought him there; his fingers closed around Phil’s cock, offering another point of pleasure. The sensation of Clint’s touch, the soft skim of his fingers as Phil finishes, reach him through a haze.

Clint presses up right against him, trembling and cursing, until he, too, stills. 

A hand pushes sweat-slick hair away from Phil’s face and caresses his cheek. “You still with me?” Clint murmurs.

It takes an enormous amount of energy for Phil to nod.

“Gonna take care of you,” Clint whispers. 

Phil takes that as permission to fall back into that soothing haze. There are things happening around him—Clint moving and touching him—but Phil doesn’t have to worry about that. He doesn’t have to worry about anything right now.

When Phil surfaces, he’s in Clint’s arms under the comforter, with one of Clint’s hands running up and down his back. 

“Welcome back,” Clint says. He shifts them until they lie on their sides. Clint studies him intently. “Feeling okay?”

“Fuzzy.”

“Hmm, I can see that. Was that what you needed?”

Phil nods. All of Phil’s brain weasels have fallen into a deep sleep, and there’s a pleasant ache in his muscles. He feels good.

“That was—” Clint begins. “Thanks for trusting me like this.”

“Love you.” It encompasses everything Phil could possibly say to Clint about how much he trusts Clint.

Clint smiles. “Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”

He kisses Phil, deep and purposeful, and it’s almost enough to pull Phil back into the haze. It takes a few blinks of his eyes to bring Clint’s face back into focus.

There’s uncertainty in Clint’s gaze. “You seemed pretty far away there. And after you came, too. Took a while for your brain to come back online.”

For Phil, that was pure bliss, and he doesn’t want Clint to worry. He also isn’t sure how to explain it. “How long was that?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Oh.” That’s longer than Phil expected. “Did that freak you out?”

Clint’s eyes dart away, but then return to Phil’s face, as if he realizes that they need to maintain a connection while talking about this. “Maybe a little? I remember on New Year’s, there were a few moments like this, too, and you were fine, so I figured this is fine, too.”

Phil remembers that, too. “This was similar, but more intense. It’s hard to describe. I was aware of what was happening around me, but it seemed far away. Like nothing that I had to keep track of. And that felt so good. So I let myself stay in that place for a little while.”

Clint’s finger trace over Phil’s brow, down the side of his face, and along his jaw. “Okay.”

Phil catches Clint’s hand and kisses his palm. “You got me there, and you made sure that—that—” It feels weird to say this out loud. “That I knew I was safe. Safe enough to let myself drift.”

Clint looks at him in wonder. “You’re amazing,” he whispers.

“That feeling is entirely mutual.” Phil moves closer until their bodies are aligned and legs comfortably tangled. He sighs when Clint’s arm envelops him. There’s only warmth and Clint, and that’s everything Phil wants.


	23. Ups and Downs

The next morning, Maria corners Phil at his locker and hands over a hefty binder. “Model UN prep. We start next Monday.”

Phil mock-salutes her. “On it.”

“You look a lot more at ease. Should I send Clint a thank-you note?”

Heat climbs up Phil’s cheeks. “Maybe.”

Maria laughs. “Oh, I see. It was that good, hmm?”

Phil’s mind flips back to Clint all around him, pleasure cocooned in safety. It’s like a small pocket of that sensation is still with Phil, tucked away for when he needs it. “Yeah. Clint is—yeah.” He realizes that he probably has the dorkiest smile on his face.

“You two, I swear. Make me believe in true love.” She shudders with exaggeration. “But seriously, good for you two.”

“Thanks.”

Maria shifts from one foot to the other. “I may also have some news on that front.”

“Oh, about Amy?” Phil has hoped that they’d settle into something steadier.

Maria waves him off. “Nah, that’s just casual as always. No, it’s Vicky. Victoria Hand?”

Phil sucks in a breath. Vicky and Maria have been fierce Model UN competitors for the last four years, but have also had intense flings during those weeks.

“She’s going to be at Amherst next year, and she—we—I think that we might see where it—us—can go. Yeah.” Maria shrugs helplessly.

Phil hauls her into a hug. “That’s awesome.” 

“Thanks. I’ll still try to take her down in two weeks.”

Phil laughs. “Of course. I’m sure she has the same goal.”

Maria points at the binder. “Bring it, I say.”

**

As the days tick closer to Ultimate Decision Day (TM Jasper), Phil manages to keep his head above water. Clint is a large part of that—he’s always there with a kiss or a hug or a word of encouragement. Phil tries to reciprocate, but he’s probably not doing as good of a job. 

Clint’s support makes one thing very clear: he is an essential part of Phil’s life, and the prospect of being away from him for weeks or months is unimaginable. Phil’s thoughts circle back to Madison, and all that it offers: an excellent education and proximity to Clint. 

They’re out on a walk with Lucky in the late afternoon taking advantage of what is perhaps the last snow of the season when Phil decides to share his thoughts. “There’s something I wanted to run by you before tomorrow.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

They turn onto the dirt path that leads to a few fields where they can let Lucky off the leash. “I might go to Madison regardless of what happens tomorrow.”

Clint looks at him as if he’s grown a second head. “What? Why?”

Phil looks out on the snow-covered shrubs lining the path, stretching on and on. “It feels right. It’s a good school, and it’s close.” He pauses. “Close to you,” he adds softly.

Clint stops. Lucky lets out a plaintive woof. Clint rubs over his ears, and Lucky leans against his leg, tongue lolling. “You can’t make this about me.”

“Why not? You’re the most important person in my life.”

“More important than your mom?”

That stings, but is also fair. Phil looks down at his boots. “I just…” He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, too many feelings swirling around inside.

Clint picks up his hand. “Babe.” He waits until Phil looks up at him. “I get it. Will it be fucking hard not to see you every day? Not to have you next to me when I fall asleep? Yes. But that’s just temporary. You’ll come home for breaks, and I can come to visit.”

Phil nods. 

“We’ll get through that. Together. I have zero doubts about that. Do you?”

Clint looks at him with absolute certainty. Phil finds the same resolve within him: the love he has for Clint—that they have for each other—is one of his touchstones. Permanent and unmovable. “No.”

Clint slides his arms around Phil’s waist. Lucky whines in protest. “See, nothing to worry about. You need to go to Brown if you get in. I know how much you want to go there. Maria’s told me how you have basically been lovingly doodling that name in your notebooks since freshman year.”

“That’s an exaggeration.” Maria only caught him doing that once.

Clint smiles. “Okay, but still. Think about all the amazing things you’ll get to do there. All the cool nerdy people you’ll meet.”

“Have to get in first.”

“Sure. But if you do, you’ll go.”

Phil sighs. Before he can respond, Lucky starts walking, putting his full weight into the leash. He almost brings down both Phil and Clint with the forceful pull.

“Hey, Luck, slow down.” Clint follows the dog, but he keeps a hold of Phil’s hand as they start walking again. 

For the next few minutes, their attention is on keeping up with Lucky, who drags them along the path until they get to the field. As soon as Lucky is off the leash, he bounds into the fresh snow, diving in and rolling in it. 

Clint takes out his phone to take a few pictures. Phil looks at Clint and the joy on his face. He tugs at Clint’s hand and kisses him. Clint makes a happy noise as he kisses back, his hand cold against Phil’s cheek.

Lucky nosing along Phil’s jacket pocket puts an end to their kissing. 

Clint laughs. “He knows you have the tennis ball in there.”

Phil takes it out. Lucky dances on the spot, tail going into overdrive. “You better actually find the ball again,” he says before throwing it.

Lucky darts off. 

“He will,” Clint says.

After a minute, Lucky does indeed return with the ball, demanding it to be thrown again. Clint obliges. 

Phil will miss Lucky, too. And these little moments with Clint. “So much is going to change,” he wonders out loud. Madison means predictable changes—he’s been to the city before, he’s already somewhat familiar with the campus from debate tournaments and academic summer camps, and home is only a few hours’ drive away. Brown is unpredictable in comparison.

“Yeah, no shit,” Clint replies. “That’s life for you.”

All the changes life has thrown at Clint in the last year have been far too cruel. Phil’s prospective challenges seem like nothing in comparison. 

Clint takes a look at Phil and his expression softens. “Wasn’t all bad. I got you out of it.”

That seems like small compensation for all that Clint has lost. “I wish you’d gotten me and kept everything else, too.”

Lucky comes back and Clint throws the ball again. He watches as Lucky dives into a snow bank, his tail the only visible part of him. “Me too. But. Can’t change anything.”

In contrast to Clint, Phil can control at least some of the changes coming toward him. He can decide where he goes to school. He can decide to face big changes even if they seem too overwhelming. And he’s never backed down from a challenge before. “I’m glad you’ll be there tomorrow.” T minus seventeen hours until Phil finds out what the future holds for him.

“Me too. And I’ll be there whatever you decide.”

Phil is utterly grateful for that.

Lucky speeds toward them, clumps of snow in his wet fur and legs streaked with mud.

Clint catches his harness. “Okay, buddy, time to go home.” Lucky whines. Clint gets a treat from his jeans, which Lucky devours in two bites. When Lucky snuffles along Clint’s pockets, Clint puts a gentle hand over his snout. “Nope, all gone, there was only one.” He straightens. “Ugh, he’s going to need a bath when we get home.”

Phil pulls out a flannel rag he pocketed before they left. “Here. Tackle the worst of it.”

Clint cups Phil’s face with both his hands and kisses him. “God, I love you, you’re a life saver.”

Phil smiles all the way home.

**

The next afternoon finds Phil, Clint, Maria, Jasper, and Phil’s mom huddled on the couch, waiting to open the decision links sitting in their email inboxes. Phil’s mom treated them to brunch in an effort to distract them, which worked well enough, but now Phil consists solely of raw nerve endings.

For Jasper and Maria, who already got into their dream schools, this is mostly a moment of pride to see how many other schools accepted them. Jasper fist-pumps the air when he sees that Harvard wait-listed him—“Not that I’d really go, but it’s Harvard, so you have to try, right?”—and Phil is pleased to see that both Stanford and UPenn accepted him. He’d choose Madison over either of them. Maria casually shares, “Well, that’s a ten out of ten, I guess,” which earns her hugs from everyone.

Then all eyes fall on Phil, who has one more link to check. 

Now or never.

The website takes five seconds to load, then says “Welcome to the class of—”

Phil’s eyes blur. He tries to hold back the tears, but he can’t. It’s too much—relief crashing down on him, pulling him down. He leans over onto his knees, pressing his hands to his face, sobbing.

Clint nuzzles his neck, whispering, “you did it,” over and over again. His hand rests on Phil’s nape, a source of connection and comfort.

Phil can feel Maria’s hand on his back, and he hears Jasper and his mom cheering. 

It seems unreal. Phil’s thoughts jumble together, _how_ and _why_ and _is this real_ going round and round in his mind, and the tears keep coming. 

Clint gently coaxes him into his arms, and Phil clings to him, tucking his face into Clint’s neck. Softy murmured words flow into his ear, _it’s okay_ , _got you_ , and _you’re amazing_.

Eventually, the tears stop. Phil takes a shaky breath and straightens. He wipes the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his eyes. Clint’s smiling face comes into focus. “Congrats,” he says, and that’s almost enough to set him off again.

“Thanks.” Phil’s throat feels raw and tight. He looks around and spots his mom. He gets up on wobbly legs and falls into her embrace. 

“Congratulations, Phil-bear,” she says while stroking over his hair. 

He holds on to her for a long while. Then he turns to his friends, who sweep him up in a hug, complete with a cheek kiss from Maria and a shoulder clap from Jasper. 

“Still think you’re going to Madison?” Clint asks.

“No? No.” Phil holds his friends tighter. It’ll be fine. Maria and Jasper will only be a few hours away, and he’ll talk to Clint every day. Thank god for whoever invented video chats. 

“In that case…” His mom says. When Phil lets go of his friends to look at her, she holds out a gift bag. 

There’s a hoodie inside it, _Brown University_ in bold letters printed on the front. “Thank you,” Phil mumbles and gives his mom another brief hug. She’s always believed in him, and her ordering this sweatshirt weeks or maybe months ago is only more evidence of that. He’ll wear it to school tomorrow, much like all the other seniors who will wear sweatshirts of their chosen colleges. He’s always thought of that practice as a little ostentatious, but fuck it, he’s earned it. 

He pulls on the hoodie, and his mom insists on a picture even though Phil must look terrible after crying so much. She’ll probably send it to the whole family, too.

Phil sits back down on the couch, curling into Clint’s side. Exhaustion hits him. He’d take a nap, but there’s a celebration cake that Jasper special-ordered from the fanciest bakery in town, and Phil isn’t going to miss out on that, or on sharing the biggest accomplishment of his life to date with the people who are most important to him.

**

When Phil keeps nodding off during a movie they are watching with his mom, Clint drags him upstairs even though it’s only 9pm. Lucky lifts his head and perks his ears, but he doesn’t follow them. Holding out for his late-night walk with Mom, Phil thinks.

Once they’re in bed, Phil stretches all his limbs, happy to be horizontal. Clint tucks the comforter around them. He’s on his side, head propped up in one hand, and the other hand rests on Phil’s chest.

“Tired,” Phil mumbles.

“I can tell.”

Phil snorts. “Thanks.”

Clint’s hand gently sweeps over Phil. “No, it’s a good thing. You look tired in the ‘bone deep exhaustion that leads to amazing sleep’ tired. Which you need.”

Phil turns his head until his cheek connects with Clint. “The brain weasels have quieted down.”

Clint draws his thumb over Phil’s forehead. “See. Maybe they’re scheming to move out.”

Phil smiles. He doubts that, but he could do with less nervous energy. “Still can’t believe I actually got in.”

“But you did, and that’s all that matters,” Clint replies softly. 

Phil stretches up to press an uncoordinated kiss to Clint’s jaw. “Thank you.” Phil hopes that he Clint knows he isn’t only grateful for that bit of affirmation, but for all the support and distraction Clint has provided over the last few weeks.

“You’re welcome.” Clint lies down, their heads close together on Phil’s pillow. “Sleep now.”

“Even though Lucky’s going to wake us up in like two hours when he wants to be let in?”

“Yup. Your mom’ll open the door. No need to get up.”

“’kay.” 

Phil slips into sleep faster than he has in months.

**

On Monday evening, Phil has the first Model UN prep meeting with Maria. After four years, they have a routine—Maria prepares the initial binder on the country their school has been assigned, plus background research on this year’s topic. Maria was offered the position of Under-Secretary for Political Affairs, but declined, preferring the deep-dive research that delegates do over the bureaucratic scheming. Maria’s team represents Liechtenstein, about which she is extraordinarily pleased because it is, in her words, “an underdog that can be unpredictable,” in contrast to some of the heavy hitters, like all the Security Council nations, whose positions are much more locked in and thus predictable.

Phil has already worked through the binder and made a list of suggestions. For the next two weeks, they will draft her opening remarks, an assortment of memos for the committee meetings, and non-negotiable points for the eventual resolution. They will also do policy drills and debate prep, plus a list of anticipated allies and opponents. It’s a ridiculous amount of work, and quite a few people question Phil’s sanity for taking it on when he isn’t even part of the MUN team, but he enjoys the intellectual challenge and working so closely with Maria. Besides, more than once has the MUN research paid off during debate tournaments when he could support his arguments with facts and figures that stumped his opponent.

Phil goes over to Maria’s house after finishing his homework at night, and only gets back past midnight. One evening, he hopes to get back before Clint is asleep, but then he and Maria discover that Liechtenstein has signed a new trade agreement that affects their position paper, and they need to revise significant parts of it. 

Phil tip-toes into his room at 1:15am after a brief stint in the bathroom. He undresses quietly, grateful that Clint left the bedside lamp on so that Phil won’t knock things over in the dark. 

As he slides into bed, he pauses at the sight of Clint curled up on his side, teddy in his arms, and Lucky sleeping right next to him, head resting on Clint’s hip. Lucky wakes briefly, huffs at Phil, and lies back down. It’s enough to make Phil feel guilty for not having been there again when Clint went to sleep, and he vows to stick to their fifteen-minute morning cuddles, which he’s also skipped the last few days.

The next morning, the first alarm also brings a text from Maria that only says _EMERGENCY_ and has Phil out of bed at near-lightning speed. The conference organizers sent out an addendum to this year’s topic that severely undermines one of Maria’s strategies, and thus sets them back quite a bit. Bye-bye lunch break, Phil thinks. 

Phil lives and breathes MUN for the next week until Clint drives them home one afternoon and doesn’t get out of the car after they pull into the garage. 

“Is something wrong with the car?” Phil asks, texting Maria with an idea he had during the drive.

“No, not the car.” Clint sounds subdued.

Phil raises his head. Clint’s shoulders are slumped and his eyes are on his hands, which are slowly twisting over each other in his lap. Phil slides his phone into his pocket. “What’s wrong?” Phil wracks his brain trying to remember if Clint said something about a test or paper or archery practice, but he can’t think of anything.

“Look, I get that all the prep you’re doing with Maria is important, and that that’s one your things, and that’ll be over soon, but…” He halts and glances out the window. Softly, he adds, “Did you notice that we haven’t even kissed in two days?”

That sounds impossible. Surely that’s not true. Phil replays this morning—he left before Clint got up—and last night—came home after Clint was asleep—and the day before that, when—

Fuck.

Clint is right. 

Phil feels rotten. “I—I didn’t notice.” He wants to become invisible. This was such a shitty thing to do, especially when Clint had been there for him during all those anxious weeks leading up to college decisions being announced. 

“Yeah, well.” 

“I’m sorry,” Phil whispers. It feels inadequate. Apologizing cannot make up for what he did. He knows that Clint has issues with people overlooking him, and Phil never ever wanted to be one of them. Clint told him time and again that one thing he treasures about their relationship is that Phil is always there for him, and look at what Phil did with that.

Clint studies him. “I know. And I know that she’s your oldest friend, and you love an intellectual challenge, and that you’ve been doing Model UN prep with her for all of high school.” He swallows and looks down at this hands again. “But I kinda need you, too.”

Pain bursts in Phil’s chest. He isn’t sure what to say or if there is anything he can say aside from apologizing again. He places his hand on the seat between them, palm up. 

After a moment of hesitation, Clint takes Phil’s hand. For a minute, they just sit like that, hands clasped, not looking at each other. 

“I’ll stay home tonight,” Phil announces. “If you want.”

“I do.”

That’s a first step. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Clint lifts his head. There’s such longing in his eyes. “You could kiss me?”

Phil wouldn’t have dared to suggest that, uncertain whether Clint was too angry with him to want any sort of intimacy. It’s a relief to hear that request. “I can do that.”

They lean toward each other. The kiss is hesitant at first, but then Clint slides his hand up to Phil’s neck and kisses him with more purpose. Phil lets Clint take the lead, answering in kind as the kiss gets messier. 

They both need a few deep breaths after. They don’t move away from each other, sitting close with their heads bowed together. “I’m so fucking sorry,” Phil blurts out. “That was total asshole behavior on my part.”

"I was kinda wondering if you had any flaws. It’s sorta reassuring that you do, but I wish it didn’t make me feel so crappy.”

Phil gently pulls Clint closer, giving him the chance to stop if that’s not something he wants. Clint wraps his arms around Phil and holds on.

Phil vows never to do this to Clint again. The worst thing is that he did this out of carelessness. He assumed that everything was fine, with the only difference being that they were going about their routine in a slightly less well-aligned way than usual. He could have made some time for Clint every day, even if it was only their fifteen-minute morning cuddle.

Clint moves away first. “Let’s go inside. Getting cold in here.”

Phil follows him. Lucky greets them with a wagging tail and excited bark, eager to be let out into the yard. As usual, they watch him from the backdoor. 

Clint takes Phil’s hand again. “Don’t walk on eggshells around me now, okay? That’ll make it worse. Just—”

“Be there?”

“Yeah.” Clint kisses him again. “And later, if we could, y’know, get into bed together, I wouldn’t say no to that.”

That’s the most indirect way Clint has talked about them having sex, and it says a lot about how shaken up he is. “I’d like that, too.”

**

“Before we get into bed,” Phil starts when they’re in their room after a hasty round of only the most essential homework. “Are we okay?” He needs to know so he can actually let go when they’re together.

“We’re okay.” Clint gives him an unwavering look. “We all do shitty things sometimes.”

“Thanks for calling me out on it.” Phil still feels guilty for being so oblivious, and he knows how hard it must have been for Clint to stand up for himself. To confront Phil and ask him to pay attention to Clint, too. To be there for Clint.

Clint shrugs. “Let’s do something more fun.”

Phil smiles. “Alright.”

They undress each other, haphazardly pulling sweaters and T-shirts over their heads and pushing down pants, underwear, and tugging off socks. 

Clint slides into bed first, as always, and turns onto his back, pulling Phil on top of him. Slotting between Clint’s drawn-up legs is familiar, and a shiver runs from the top of his head down to his toes. How long has it been since they last did this? A week at least. 

They kiss, slow and unhurried. Their hips slide against one another, no real purpose behind the movement yet. 

“What do you want to do?” Phil asks, looking down at Clint. He wonders if Clint wants to fuck, which isn’t something they do when Phil’s mom is around, but Phil would do it. Happily so. 

“Just this. Just wanna be close.” 

That sounds good. Something slow and easy. He reaches for the lube and spreads some over his palm, then reaches down to curl a hand around Clint’s cock, which is just starting to fill. He strokes him slowly, eyes never leaving Clint’s face. Phil loves to see the moment when Clint’s eyes start to go out of focus and his breath hitches. He remembers the first time they did this together, when Phil fumbled his way through his first handjob, and how exciting it was to see Clint tremble from his touch. Phil still loves that, but he appreciates that he knows better what Clint likes and needs.

“C’mere,” Clint mumbles, drawing Phil’s hand up. “Just move with me.”

Phil hooks his hands under Clint’s shoulders to get more leverage and they start in on a slow, slick push-pull. Phil groans with how good it feels, and Clint’s hands press down on his back. 

They kiss and kiss and kiss, pausing only briefly to draw air into their lungs. 

“Can we switch?” Clint asks. “Me on top.”

Phil nods eagerly. Clint straddles him and pins his wrists down. Phil whines, want shooting straight through him with a sharp snap. 

Clint kisses him again, and his hips move, an achingly slow drag. It’s enough to wind Phil’s desire into a tight spiral, but not enough to make it uncoil. Normally, Phil would plead with Clint to get on with it, but this is for Clint and his needs, so Phil moans and trembles.

Clint lowers himself on his elbows, his hands pushing up to link with Phil’s fingers. He’s even closer now, cheek next to Phil’s, and Phil can hear every desperate noise Clint makes. 

“Close?” Phil murmurs.

Clint nods.

“Will you let me make you come?”

Clint’s hands squeeze Phil’s in affirmation. He lifts his hips just enough so that Phil can get a hand between them. Clint’s cock is hot and slippery in Phil’s fingers, and he wastes no time with trying to tease. He twists his palm over the head until Clint shudders, a sign that he’s almost there, and then closes a tight fist around both of them, the pressure making his hips buck up.

“Fuck, babe, please—please—“ The words are bursts of heat against Phil’s neck.

Phil summons his last brain cells to move his hand in the tight, precise strokes that get Clint off the fastest. 

They come almost at the same time, spilling warm and messy over Phil’s fingers and between their bodies. Phil lets his hand fall to the mattress. They keep moving against each other, lazy rolls of hips chasing the last remnants of pleasure.

Clint goes boneless on top of Phil. “Jus’ a minute.”

Phil runs a hand down Clint’s sweat-slick back. He needs more than a minute.

**

They clean up—a quick stint in the bathroom, fresh sheets, new pajamas—and get back into bed.

Clint reaches for the chocolate heart that Phil gave him as a Valentine. “Do you wanna split that?”

This offer assures Phil that they are truly okay. They saved the heart for a special occasion. While neither of them had this kind of day in mind when they decided that, this is an important moment for them: the first true test of how strong their relationship is. As it turns out, it is steady and true, a connection that can weather a storm. 

“Yes,” Phil says. “I’d love to.”

Clint unwraps the heart and breaks it into two halves. “Oh, solid chocolate, score.” He offers one half to Phil.

Phil smiles. He takes a bite. The chocolate melts on his tongue, rich and bittersweet. 

“This is definitely a step up from Hershey’s,” Clint says. 

“Glad you like it.”

Phil ends up with chocolate all over his fingers, and Clint picks up his hand to lick it off. Phil squirms, heat spreading through him again, but Clint just carries on until Phil’s hand is clean. Clint kisses his palm, and holds it up to his cheek, leaning against it. 

Phil runs his thumb over Clint’s skin, watching as his eyes close. “I love you.”

Clint smiles. “Love you, too.” He tugs Phil closer until he can wrap his arms around Phil. “Thanks for showing me tonight that you do.” 

Phil nods into Clint’s shoulder, words beyond his reach.

**

The next morning, Phil slides out of bed half-way through their cuddle time. He whispers, “Be right back” in response to Clint’s protesting noises.

He walks downstairs to the kitchen and gets a cup of coffee started for Clint. His mom is already awake, having breakfast at the dining table.

“Is that apology coffee?” She asks.

“What?” Phil responds, confused. He adds a spoon of sugar to Clint’s cup.

“For Clint. You’ve barely spoken to each other during the last week and you’ve been over at Maria’s a lot, maybe avoiding whatever your fight with Clint was about. Although you’re usual not the avoiding type.”

Phil sighs. “We didn’t have a fight. I screwed up.” He pours two splashes of milk into the coffee.

His mom walks over to him. “Everyone does.”

“That’s what Clint said, too. But this was completely avoidable and I hurt Clint by being so self-involved.” Phil still feels sad and angry about it. “I got so caught up in working on the Model UN prep with Maria that I stopped noticing what else—who else—also needed my attention.”

“Model UN, huh? I guess it’s that time of year again.” She rubs his arm. “Did you work it out with Clint?”

“We did. We talked and—” His mom doesn’t need to know about the sex part. “We did.”

“Good. It won’t be the last time that this happens—“ Phil cringes at that. “But if you got through it now, and talked it out, then you’ll be better prepared for next time.”

Phil hopes they can sort out the next conflict before either of their feelings get hurt. “Thanks. I should get this cup to Clint.”

“Of course.”

Back upstairs, both Lucky and Clint have fallen back asleep. Phil calls out to Clint and waits until Clint has oriented himself before sitting down on the bed. Lucky takes an immediate interest in the cup, but Phil pushes him away. “Here.”

Clint takes the cup. “Coffee in bed? What’s the occasion?”

“I’m groveling.” No need to mince words.

“Aww, babe, I told you we’re good.” Clint takes a sip. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“You deserve it.”

Clint ducks his head, smiling into the cup. “In that case, you can get in behind me so my back isn’t so cold.”

Phil is happy to oblige. He wraps an arm around Clint’s middle. Lucky sprawls over Clint’s legs. 

Clint leans back. “Ah, that’s the dream right there.” He pats Phi’s arm. “So, in the whole hubbub of last week, I never had the chance to tell you that the archery tournament is definitely a go. Coach used his connections to get me and Kate in. Guess my scores left an impression or something.”

“Of course they did because you’re amazing and never miss.” Phil kisses Clint’s neck. “That’s in April, right?”

“Same weekend as the state debate championship, yeah.”

“So we’ll both be gone that weekend.” In a way, that makes it easier. Phil has been dreading that weekend—two nights apart—but if Clint is also on the road, doing something he loves, it will make the days go by faster. 

“Sure seems like it. And fuck, it’s in Florida! You’ll have to tell me how not to be the obvious person on their first flight.”

Phil rests his chin on Clint’s shoulder. “You’ve never flown anywhere before?”

“Nah. We never had the money for that.” He takes another drink of his coffee. “Is it dumb to be excited about that? I hope I get a window seat.”

“No, of course it’s not. Flying’s pretty cool. And you can request a window seat when you book the ticket. Or tell whoever is arranging your travel that you’d like a window seat.”

“Okay, I’ll do that, and—”

Their second alarm goes off.

“Aww, alarm, no.” Clint drinks down the rest of the coffee. 

Phil gives Clint a squeeze before letting go and getting out of bed. “You can have the first shower.”

Clint stands as well. “Is that more groveling?”

“Maybe.” It gives Phil time to put breakfast together.

Clint gives him a peck on the lips. “Thank you.”

Phil watches Clint go, holding Lucky back, who would jump into the shower with Clint if he had his way. Once he hears the bathroom door close, Phil says, “C’mon, let’s make some food for our favorite human.” As soon as Phil lets go, Lucky runs for the stairs.


	24. Starlight

During the last three days of Model UN prep, Phil continues to go over to Maria’s house after finishing his homework, but he’s back home by 11pm, and he doesn’t skip any morning cuddles.

Maria returns triumphantly from the tournament—first place for their school for the third year in a row—and they celebrate at movie night. While she’s gathering snacks in the kitchen with Phil, she shares that Vicky almost derailed her victory— _she’s so sneaky, Phil, you have no idea_ —but it seems that their behind-the-scenes talks went very differently if the light blush on Maria’s cheeks is anything to go by. Phil hugs her until Jasper yells from the living room, demanding to know how long it could possibly take to dump a bag of chips into a bowl.

They’re back to the grind of too much homework and too many quizzes the next week. When Phil is tempted to grump at Clint about the various pairs of socks strewn about their room, he decides they need a break from their routine. They don’t really go on dates because that seems silly when they live together and spend so much time with each other anyway, but it still seems important to do something fun and out of the ordinary, especially considering they’ve been so busy lately.

He gets an idea as they drive to school the next morning and the last few stars hover in the sky as dawn breaks.

“How do you feel about stargazing?” Phil asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

“You mean like astronomy?”

“No, more in the sense of going outside and looking at the stars.”

Clint yawns. “Not sure I’ve ever done that.”

Phil glances at him. “Would you like to?”

“Uhh, I dunno, it’s still pretty cold out.” 

“I thought it could be—“ Phil halts, but then soldiers on. “Romantic. We could drive out to a field, pack a sleeping bag, lie down in the bed of the truck, and spend some time looking up at the stars.” Phil looks over at Clint again, who is smiling into his scarf.

“That sounds kinda nice, actually.”

Phil smiles back. “This Saturday? If the forecast is good.” 

“Sure, yeah.” Clint gives Phil a fond look.

Phil looks back at traffic, quiet excitement bubbling up in him.

**

“Your mom said we should take her yoga mats to put under the sleeping bag.” Clint carries three rolled-up mats as he walks into the garage.

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” Phil places a backpack with a thermos and snacks on the front seat. “Let me help you.”

They work together to unroll the mats and drape the sleeping bag over it. Phil zips their pillow inside to prevent it from getting dirty on the drive and makes sure everything is secured so nothing will fly off the truck bed.

“Do we have everything?” Phil goes through his mental check-list.

“Did you, um, pack any supplies?”

“The snacks are in the front, along with the extra blanket.”

Clint smiles and takes Phil by the hips. “Not those supplies.”

“Oh!” Phil bites his lip. “Yeah, I did. Just in case.”

Clint laughs. “Just in case? I was hoping that’d be a sure thing.” He steps closer to Phil. “Just us, no one for miles…”

“Well, if you put it that way.” Phil loops his arms around Clint’s neck. “Too good of an opportunity to waste,” he murmurs as he leans in for a kiss.

The kiss, slow and languid, holds so much promise. 

“Hmm, that’s a good start,” Clint says. “Let’s go.”

**

They follow a dirt road for a few miles until they reach a wide-open area that gives a full view of the sky. They use the lights on their phones to find their way around. It’s a new moon, and without the ambient light of the city, it is nearly impossible to see without some extra light.

When everything is set up, they climb onto the truck bed, take off their shoes and jackets, and crawl into the sleeping bag. 

Clint shivers and presses closer to Phil, leaning into his side. “I’m glad we brought the extra blanket.”

Phil wraps an arm around Clint’s shoulders. “And good call to use it as inner layer in the sleeping bag.” The wind is sharp and cold. The sides of the truck bed break some of it, but Phil can still feel it. He tugs his hat down to make sure his ears are covered. “It’ll feel warmer once our body heat has spread some more.”

“Body heat, huh?”

“It’s science.”

Clint hums. Quiet minutes pass as they look up at the sky, their eyes adjusting to the darkness. “You can see so many more stars out here.”

“And we’re not even in a really dark spot. If you went far away from any settlements, you’d see even more. And the Milky Way.”

Clint rolls onto his back, perhaps to look up more easily. He rests his head against Phil’s shoulder. “Do you know any constellations?”

“A few. Just the easy ones.” Phil frees an arm from the sleeping bag. “Okay. This is the Big Dipper. It looks like a cart with handle.” When Clint makes an affirmative noise, he continues on. “Then over here, there are stars shaped like a W. That’s Cassiopeia. And…” Phil pauses, searching. “Oh yeah, there’s a cluster of seven stars here. The Pleiades. The Seven Sisters.” 

“That’s so cool. They fade in and out a little.”

“Hard to imagine that the light from some of these stars started its journey hundreds of thousands of years ago. Maybe these stars don’t even exist anymore.”

“That was a question on my AP Physics final last semester. We talked about light for weeks. Never thought you could get into such depth about calculating light.”

Phil remembers how hard Clint studied for that final. And that he got the best score of the class. “That sounds interesting, at least. Better than straight-up math.”

“Ugh, yeah. That’s why Physics is the best.”

Phil smiles. Clint doesn’t nerd out about his school-related interests that often, but Phil always loves it when he does. 

“Tell me about more constellations.”

“Those are the ones I know, but I downloaded an app if you’re really curious…” 

“Duh, yes. I hope we don’t need internet for that because the reception out here is zero. I checked earlier.”

Phil gets out his phone. “I made sure to get one that works without data access.”

They identify a few more constellations, and Phil reads the information about each out loud. Sometimes he remembers more details, emerging from some distant corner of his brain. He’s in the middle of explaining the difference between the night sky in the northern and southern hemisphere when Clint nuzzles his neck and sneaks a hand under Phil’s sweater.

“If this is getting too boring, I can stop.” Phil often worries that his enthusiasm for random bits of knowledge gets on people’s nerves, but Clint seemed interested enough.

“Not bored.” Clint’s hand sweeps across Phil’s chest. He thumbs over a nipple in a way that makes Phil gasp. “More like turned on. Guess hearing you discuss astronomical minutiae does it for me.”

Phil’s heart gives a hard thump in his chest. He sets his phone aside and pulls Clint closer. “Tell me more about how turned on you are.”

Clint shifts some of his weight on top of Phil. His well-worn sweats are thin enough that the impact of Phil’s treatise on stars is very obvious. Want sparks through Phil, sharp and fast. “I think I need some further proof,” he says, mostly succeeding in keeping is voice even. His fingers skim along the edge of Clint’s sweatpants.

Clint pushes Phil’s hand farther down. “Be my guest.”

Phil feels for the band of Clint’s briefs, but there’s nothing. “Oh shit.” Phil’s hips buck at the thought of Clint spending half the day going commando; he put on these sweatpants after lunch, and they spent the afternoon lazing about. Then there was also dinner and getting the truck ready. It’s almost too much to think about.

Clint chuckles. “Found something you like?” He kisses Phil in a brief brush of lips. 

“I think we’re both quite fond of it.” Phil closes his hand around Clint and twists down in a hard stroke. Clint groans and pushes into Phil’s hand. 

Clint kisses Phil again, and this time there’s nothing brief about it. Phil moans when Clint pushes a hand down Phil’s pants, too, and starts stroking him with just the right speed and pressure. “Let me hear you,” Clint whispers, and Phil obliges, letting out stuttered breaths and needy whines.

They know each other well enough to be aware of the signs that suggest orgasms aren’t far off, and Phil is almost there when Clint removes his hand and gentles their kiss.

“Don’t stop,” Phil pleads. He knows they had other plans, but this feels so good, and Clint is almost there, too, and Phil just wants to tip over into that fuzzy headspace in which nothing matters.

“Sorry. Can you stop for a sec?” He stills Phil’s hand. 

Phil draws it back and settles his palm low on Clint’s back. “We could have kept going and then waited a bit if you wanted to fuck.”

“I know, it’s just—there’s something I wanted to ask.”

There’s a serious look on Clint’s face, suggesting Phil may need more than three functioning brain cells. He turns his eyes up toward the stars and watches his exhaled breaths turn into small clouds. It must be close to freezing. He didn’t notice before. Now that he pays attention, his face feels cold, especially the tip of his nose. He rubs over it to get some warmth back into it. 

“I’m listening,” Phil says.

Clint stretches out his arm and gets something out of his jacket pocket. It’s a folded-up letter that he lays down on Phil’s chest. “Um, take a look.”

Curious, Phil unfolds it. It’s from the Planned Parenthood in town, showing the results of a STI test that Clint apparently took. All results are negative. “Okay, so…” Phil doesn’t know what to make of this. He looks at the date; it’s from three weeks ago. This confuses Phil further. “You did this a while ago.”

“Yeah, I did, and then things got weird between us for a bit…” Clint doesn’t need to spell out that he means the Model UN disaster week. “So I didn’t want to bring it up, but we’re good now, like really good, and, ummm, I wanted to be sure before—before I ask you this. And you can totally say no. It’s fine if you say no, I’d totally get why—”

Phil stops the flood of words with a gentle sweep of his thumb across Clint’s cheek. “Clint. Just ask.” 

“Right. Yeah. Okay. D’you wanna fuck without condoms, maybe?”

Phil usually loves Clint’s blunt approach to talking about sex, but he was not prepared for that question. It has crossed his mind in a fleeting way, a brief we’ve-been-together-for-a-while consideration, but nothing more. Clint clearly thought about it more if he went to get tested. And Phil wonders why Clint didn’t ask for the two of them to go together.

Clint’s gaze wavers. “Uh, never mind, this was stupid, forget I asked,” he mumbles.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Phil says immediately. “I need a moment.”

Clint nods, uncertainty lingering in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you went to get tested? We could have done that together.”

Clint picks at some lint on Phil’s sweater. “Well, you’ve never been with anyone before, so I figured you don’t need to get a test. And I’ve always been safe, but I figured I should do it anyway.”

That makes sense. 

Clint glances up at Phil. “So, uhh, how d’you feel about the no-condoms thing?”

Phil’s gut twists sharply, heat flaring out at impossible speed, nearly knocking the breath out of him. He suddenly becomes aware again that Clint is still stretched out on top of him, still mostly hard, and the answer is easy. “Yeah. That’d be—yeah.”

Clint smiles, shy at first, then with more confidence. He rolls his hips. “Yeah? How about right now?”

Phil groans. 

“I’m taking that as a yes.” Clint starts taking his sweatpants off. “I’d say let’s get naked, but maybe half-naked is the more sensible approach considering it’s fucking freezing.”

Their knees and elbows bump as they undress, pushing all unwanted clothing down to the bottom of the sleeping bag. Clint wiggles under Phil, who retrieves the lube. 

“Let me,” Clint says as he gently takes the tube from Phil. There’s a light flush across his cheeks. “I, uh, may have spent some time getting myself ready before we left.”

Need tears through Phil, burning white-hot. He almost whimpers as he feels between Clint’s cheeks and finds a slick sheen there. Two fingers slide easily into Clint. “Oh fuck.” He pushes in to the knuckle, twisting until Clint lets out a helpless moan.

Clint squeezes Phil’s wrist. “Please get your dick in me before I come just from that.”

“Shit, sorry, just—yeah.” He gently eases his fingers out of Clint.

Clint warms the lube between his fingers before sliding them over Phil’s cock. Phil holds very still, biting his lip, and pushes Clint’s hand away. “Too much.”

Clint draws up his knees as much as the confined space of the sleeping bag allows. Phil’s hand shakes as he guides himself into Clint, and they both let out a breath as Phil slides in, slow and easy.

Phil didn’t expect it to feel that much different, but it does, the heat and friction so much more immediate, and he can’t help but keep pushing until his hips are flush with Clint’s ass. 

Clint’s hand twists into Phil’s hair, his breath short and fast.

“Okay?” Phil finds it difficult to even get that one word out. 

Clint nods. “Feels so good.” He pushes up against Phil. “C’mon, please.”

Phil sucks in a breath at that movement, small as it was, and he draws back and pushes back in with more force, and then again, and again, until he drives into Clint hard and fast as encouragements flow into his ear. Clint’s heels dig into the small of Phil’s back and his fingers tighten and release around his arms. 

“So good, babe, please, ‘m really close.” Clint pulls first Phil’s sweater, then his own sweatshirt up to their armpits. Clint wraps his arms tight around Phil’s shoulders, bringing Phil’s full weight down on him. Clint’s cock drags between them, sticky and hot, leaving trails against Phil’s stomach.

Phil manages to get his hand under Clint, and he splays it low on Clint’s back as he bears down. A shudder goes through Clint just before he comes. Phil fucks him through it with even deep strokes, holding himself back until Clint presses a sloppy kiss to his neck and squeezes his ass, encouraging him to keep going.

Phil drops his head to Clint’s shoulder as his hips snap forward, pressing in and in until his orgasm sweeps over him.

“Oh—oh god,” Clint whispers as he holds Phil close.

They lie still, catching their breaths. 

Phil pushes himself up on an elbow, arm shaking, but he needs to see Clint. 

Clint’s eyes are closed and his lips are parted, a deep flush across his cheeks. Phil never thought he’d use the word debauched, but it’s the only one that fits what he sees. He leans down to kiss Clint’s cheek and feels a smile forming under his lips. Phil takes it as an invitation and kisses Clint, soft and unhurried.

Clint’s eyes open slowly. “That was fucking amazing.”

Phil nods. “Let me know when I should move.”

“You’re good for now.” Clint pulls him in for another kiss, which turns into another, and another before he nudges Phil’s side. “Alright, now.”

Phil pulls out and makes a face at the slick slide. Clint doesn’t seem to mind. “I stuffed some Kleenex into the backpack if you can reach those.”

Clint stretches and rummages through the bag. They clean up as much as they can, but Phil definitely plans an intense wash cycle for both the blanket and the sleeping bag. 

When they’ve settled back down, blanket drawn up to their noses to keep the wind at bay, Phil asks, “Was that what you were hoping for?”

“It was,” Clint says, almost hushed.

“I didn’t expect it to be so different,” Phil admits.

“So you liked it?”

“I did.” He casts about for words to describe his experience, but they all feel inadequate. “I want to do it again.”

“Me too.”

They fall quiet. Phil dozes, and imagines Clint does, too.

“As nice as this is,” Clint says eventually, “I could go for a snack.”

Phil smiles, nosing against Clint’s neck. “A snack sounds great.”

They prop up the pillow for more comfort and get out cookies, chips, water, and the thermos of hot chocolate. They trade a cup back and forth. Phil tries to be mindful of getting crumbs everywhere, but eventually gives up. Most of them fall on the outside of the sleeping bag anyway.

“Thanks for suggesting this,” Clint says softly. “I like it here. It’s so quiet.” An owl hoots from the trees nearby. “Okay, mostly quiet.”

Phil leans against Clint. “I like it, too. We could go camping this summer. There are some nice spots further north along the lake.”

“Maybe we could even take Lucky. I bet he’d love swimming, and—oh shit, shooting star, look!” Clint points up at the sky.

Phil catches sight of it just as it fades out. “Make a wish.” There’s only one thing he can think of: to have Clint by his side, always.

Clint looks at him and kisses his cheek. “Already did.”

Phil’s breath catches in his throat. Clint looks so beautiful in the starlight. Not for the first time, Phil thinks about how glad he is that they found one another.

They pack away the snacks and settle back into their blanket cocoon, neither of them suggesting that they should leave. Phil has no idea what time it is. Frankly, he doesn’t care. 

They return to the same quiet contemplation as earlier until Clint keeps shifting this way and that.

“Crumbs?” Phil asks.

“No.” Clint snorts. “My ass feels squishier than usual. Like, geez, Phil, how hard did you come in me, yanno?”

A zing goes through Phil, embarrassment mingling with want, that memory burning bright in his mind’s eye. “Did it feel different for you?”

Clint bites his lip. “Uhuh.”

“In a good way?”

Clint sucks in a breath. “You could say that.” 

Phil isn’t used to seeing Clint this way when they talk about sex—slightly overwhelmed, almost shy. Not his usual blunt confidence. It shows that Clint is in new territory as well, and that sharing this experience with Clint holds significance to him. 

“Can I?” Phil’s fingers skim across Clint’s thigh. “I want…”

“Shit, Phil, yeah, god.” Clint slides down until he’s stretched out on his back. He draws Phil’s hand between his legs.

Phil swallows. He thumbs over Clint’s hole a few times, finding him open enough that he could slide in without much effort. A breath startles out of Clint, and he draws a knee up, giving Phil more space. When Phil pushes in with two fingers, Clint lets out a sigh. They go in easy, the slick warmth there surprising Phil. His cock starts to fill again.

“Told ya,” Clint murmurs, pressing down into Phil’s movement.

As Phil’s fingers work in Clint, his thumb swipes up over that stretch of skin behind Clint’s balls. There’s no pressure behind the movement, but Clint groans anyway, and he pulls Phil into a long messy kiss. Clint breaks away from it, panting.

“Want me to fuck you again?” Phil asks, kissing the corner of Clint’s mouth.

“You better. And fast. I feel like I’m a minute away from coming.”

Phil eases his fingers out of Clint and curls them around his cock. He knew Clint was hard—could feel his cock thicken, nudging against Phil’s wrist—but he only realizes now how fast Clint got there. He can’t resists twisting his palm over the head, his own gut tightening at the sight of Clint, flushed and desperate, holding nothing back and letting Phil see exactly how much he wants this. Wants Phil.

“Okay, how should we—what do you want?” Phil asks, coherent thought rapidly evaporating.

“Can we try with me on my side and you behind me? And go slow.”

“Promise.”

They rearrange themselves. It’s a little awkward at first, but then Clint pulls his knee up, and Phil finds some leverage. They both moan the next time Phil pushes in, which causes them to laugh, and then Clint curses because Phil’s hips twitch as he laughs, which only makes everything better.

Clint reaches back, his hand tracing down Phil’s side, over his ass, and down to his thigh, where it settles, squeezing occasionally as Phil moves with slow rolls of his hips. “Love this,” Clint whispers.

Phil mouths down Clint’s neck, a string of soft kisses. He wishes he could see Clint’s face better. He can hear the small hitches in Clint’s breath, and feels the tremble that goes through Clint when Phil hits a good spot. But it’s not enough. He brings his hand up to Clint’s face, With one finger, he traces along his brows and down to the corners of his eyes, where he feels the edges of Clint’s eyelashes. Clint’s eyes must be closed. He continues on down Clint’s cheek, skin warm under his fingertip, and down to his lips, which are open under the steady flow of breath and a succession of low, needy sounds. 

Clint catches his hand and kisses his fingers. He keeps hold of them, tucked against his chest. “Gonna turn over on my front, okay?”

“Works for me.”

Phil moves with Clint, propping himself up on his free elbow; Clint keeps hold of his other hand, curling around it. It’s easier for Phil to move, and he strokes deeper into Clint.

“Fuck, again,” Clint pleads.

Phil nudges Clint knee up with his own, finding better grounding and thus more force for his movements. The next slide into Clint is electrifying, echoing through Phil.

Clint’s fingers tighten around Phil’s hand. “Just like that.”

Phil drops his forehead to Clint’s shoulder. He’s not sure how much longer he can hold on, both because of the strain in his thighs and back, and because he desperately wants to come. But he keeps going at an even pace. It's what Clint needs, and Phil wants to give him whatever he needs, always. Clint's loud groans turn into quiet, bitten-off whines, his fingers flexing restlessly around Phil's. It means that Clint is lost in his desire, desperately close, and chasing after every sensation that will take him over the edge. It's also enough to make Phil lose his rhythm. 

“Close?” Phil asks.

Clint nods. “’s okay, let go, babe.”

It’s all the encouragement that Phil needs. He holds on to Clint’s hand as tight as he can, using it as anchor as he chases after that one moment that will snap apart the twisted tension in him. Clint moves with him in all the right ways, and it’s that what finally undoes Phil: Clint knowing to turn his hips just like that, and Phil is gone.

He shudders through the aftershocks when Clint goes quiet and still for a long moment before he comes, too, trembling with the force of it.

For a minute, all Phil can do is breathe, forehead tipped against Clint’s shoulder. He rests a hand on Clint’s hip, feeling the tremors that still run through him. He can hear Clint breathing, shaky and uncoordinated, clearly undone by what they just did together, and Phil feels the same way. 

Phil musters just enough coherence to pull out of Clint. They turn onto their sides, tucked against one another. Clint takes Phil’s hand again. 

They stay tangled up together much longer than they normally do. It’s as if they don’t want this moment to end. There’s something about being out in the middle of nowhere on a cold night, miles from any other person, that makes it even more special, like it’s just them, warm and safe and together.

“We should probably get going. It feels late,” Clint says.

Phil swallows down a sigh. He doesn’t want to go back yet, but Clint is right. They can’t stay out here all night. “In a minute.”

One minute turns into five, and then Clint sits up with an encouraging, “C’mon, the sooner we pack up here, the sooner we’ll be home. Ugh, I definitely need a shower.”

Phil wonders if he can talk Clint into sharing that shower. It’s enough motivation to get dressed and stow everything for the drive home.

They are about to get into the truck when Clint says, “One moment,” and walks out into the field. He spreads his arms, tilts back his head and lets out a joyful, “WOO-HOO.” 

It makes Phil smile so wide his cheeks pinch. He opens his arms when Clint comes jogging back, and Clint falls into them with a laugh. It’s so good to see Clint like this.

Clint kisses Phil, then says, “Let’s go home.”

**

When they come through the backdoor, Lucky sits there waiting for them, tail swishing madly across the floor. He nearly knocks them over in excitement, then sprawls on his back, wiggling in anticipation of pets.

“Aww, did you miss us?” Clint asks as he bends down to rub both hands across Lucky’s belly. “Yes, you did!”

Phil gives Lucky a few scratches behind his left ear, then stuffs the blanket and sleeping bag into the washing machine before walking to the living room, where he finds his mom. He’s surprised to see her; it’s past her bedtime. “Were you waiting up for us?”

“Well, Lucky was very insistent on waiting for you, so I kept him company.”

“Ah yes, of course.” Phil appreciates that she wanted to make sure they’d come home safe. Though Lucky probably was indeed insistent in trying to figure out why part of his family wasn’t home by bedtime. 

“Did you have a good time?” She asks.

Phil is helpless against the blush creeping up his cheeks. “Uh, yeah.”

His mom gives him a knowing smile. “I’m glad. You haven’t had that much time for each other lately, and it’s good to reconnect.”

Phil’s cheeks heat more, and he ducks away with a mumbled, “We’re really tired, so we’ll head right up, goodnight.”

With amusement, she replies, “Alright, honey. Sleep well.”

Phil takes the stairs two steps at time, hearing Lucky and Clint behind him just as he reaches the top. He turns back. “Shower?”

“Absolutely,” Clint affirms. He holds out a hand.

Phil’s chest twinges with happiness as Clint leads him into bathroom. Lucky scratches the door a few times before giving up. They undress quietly, and continue their comfortable silence as they stand under the water, elbows bumping occasionally as they wash.

Phil takes a moment to let the hot water run across his face and down his body. This was a good day for them.

Clint steps up behind Phil and loops an arm around his waist. Kissing Phil’s shoulder, he says, “Thanks for tonight.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” 

They take another minute, then get ready for bed.

Lucky has settled down right in the center of mattress, but concedes some space on either side of him. A minute later, he gets up, walks around in a circle three times, and then plops down with a huff, sprawling half over Clint and pushing his butt against Phil’s side. 

“Silly dog,” Phil mumbles with affection. At least he can lean around Lucky now and tuck his face against Clint’s neck.

“He missed us,” Clint points out with a soft laugh.

“Hmm.” Phil runs his hand over Lucky’s back.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Phil wonders what question may need this kind of preface.

“You’re not mad that I sprung the whole no-condoms thing on you? I guess we should’ve talked about it beforehand. The whole surprise angle sounded a lot better in my head.” 

That question merits a lead-in, though the answer is easy for Phil. “I’m not mad. At all. You were safe about it and considerate and it was rather hot.” Phil shivers just thinking about it. “You know how you enjoy holding me down and how a big reason for that is because that makes it even better for me?”

“Yeah.”

“And I was a little freaked out about it at first, but you were so into it as well. It’s part of who we are now. Part of us.”

Clint nods.

“The condoms thing is like that. It’s something you wanted and that is important to you and it turns out we’re both into it. Okay?”

Clint turns to pull Phil close to him, dislodging Lucky, who woofs in protest. “Sorry, buddy.” When he looks at Phil, he says, “I love you so fucking much.”

“Me too. So, so much.” Phil nearly stumbles over the words in his eagerness to get them out. 

Clint kisses him, achingly sweet, a hand on Phil’s cheek, which remains there after he pulls away. They stay close enough that their noses brush.

“Can I ask why? Why you wanted this?”

“It’s—” Clint starts, then pauses. “I’ve told you before that I feel especially close to you when we fuck, right?” He waits until Phil makes an affirming noise. “So this was a way to be as close as possible.”

This explanation hits Phil a lot harder than the reason he had imagined, which was mostly along the lines of curiosity and experimentation. Clint’s reason speaks to how much Clint has come to trust Phil; to let him in this much—to want them to be as close to each other as they can—is humbling and exciting. It also says so much about Clint not having a lot of closeness in his life previously, and how much he must have longed for it.

“I want that, too,” Phil says, grasping for the right words.

“Yeah, I could tell,” Clint says with a teasing edge. Softer, he adds, “I think part of the reason why I waited three weeks is not just the Model UN fuckery, but also me wondering if you’d be into it, and how it’d make me feel if you weren’t. Because—because if you hadn’t been up for it, I would’ve understood, but it also would have hurt a little.”

Thinking back on telling Clint about wanting to be held down, Phil understands only too well, and he knows the relief of knowing that it’s okay to feel this way and to receive enthusiastic endorsement from the person you love. “I understand, and I’m glad you asked. And next time, don’t wait three weeks, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Clint smiles as his eyes close. “Get the light?”

Phil switches it off and lies back down, a deep contentment settling in his bones.


	25. Together Apart

“Where are my lucky socks?” Clint stands in the middle of their room, looking this way and that, while Lucky looks at him with expectation.

Phil looks up from his packing checklist. “Lucky socks?” Lucky’s head swivels in Phil’s direction.

“Yeah, you know, the ones with the purple elephants?” Clint gets down on his knees and bends over to search under his dresser.

Phil enjoys the view. Perhaps a little too much considering there is a distinct pause before his answer. “I haven’t seen them.”

“Argh!” Clint straightens. “Okay, I’ll pack everything else and then see if I can find them.”

Their room looks chaotic: two open carry-on suitcases, several piles of clothes, and other travel-related items. At first, Clint wanted to take the backpack he uses for school, but Phil managed to convince him to borrow his mom’s small suitcase instead. Lucky is curious about the commotion happening around him, and Phil has nearly tripped over him twice. Fortunately, he hasn’t tried to sit in the luggage. Yet.

Phil folds a third shirt into his suitcase along with a fourth tie. It’s probably too much, but there is room, and Phil prefers to have a good selection. “Did you pack the sunscreen?”

“Oh, right, good idea. Where?”

“Bathroom cabinet.”

Clint dashes off, and comes back a minute later. “I don’t burn quickly, but we’ll be outside a lot, so this will be good.”

Phil swallows down a whole run-down of sunscreen application guidelines and settles for, “Yes.” He takes a look at his list and finds he only has pajamas left. He packs his favorite PJ pants, and then has an idea. It’s a silly idea, maybe, so he pokes at his clothes for another minute before deciding that he doesn’t care if it’s overly sentimental. “So, um, could I borrow one of your T-shirts? To sleep in?”

Clint pauses in folding a sweatshirt. A soft smile appears on his face. “Only if I can borrow one of yours.”

Phil smiles back at him. He should have known that Clint would embrace this idea. They wear each other’s clothes occasionally—usually because they are in a hurry and it’s the nearest thing in reach—but this is the first time that they are intentionally swapping clothes. “That can be arranged. Do you want to pick one?”

Clint walks over and looks in the drawer. “Can I take this one?” He points at Phil’s debate championship shirt from last year. “Unless you want to take it for good luck.”

“No, that’s fine.”

Clint takes the shirt and gestures at Phil to make his pick. Phil knows exactly which one he wants: a light grey shirt that Clint often wears to sleep and is fraying at the edges. He’s glad to discover that Clint didn’t pack it. His choice gets a knowing smile from Clint. Before Phil has the chance to cross the room to his suitcase, Clint reels him in for a kiss. Phil cherishes it; there won’t be that many more kisses until Clint leaves for his archery tournament the next morning.

**

When they get into bed—such a familiar routine that they often move through it without needing any words—it hits Phil that they won’t get into the same bed the next evening. He wishes he could turn off his feelings about this; it’s only two days and two nights, and besides, they need to get used to it in the fall anyway. And yet, Phil dreads it.

“Little spoon?” He asks when Clint turns off the light.

Clint hums in agreement and stretches out behind Phil. “Your heart’s beating really fast.” His thumb swipes over Phil’s chest.

Phil sighs. “It’s stupid, but tomorrow has me on edge.”

Clint kisses his neck. “We can do this. Here, give me your arms. Fold them in front of you, like an X.” Phil does as he is told, and when Clint wraps his own arm tightly over Phil’s and holds him close, Phil breathes a little easier. “Good?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Phil focuses on Clint’s even, deep breaths, and his heart slows. 

“There you go,” Clint murmurs.

Phil closes his eyes, sinks back into the safety of Clint’s body, and slowly drifts off.

**

Their alarm goes off at 4:30am. Phil is glad that he’s only half-awake for saying goodbye to Clint. They purposefully didn’t leave much time until Clint gets picked up to go to the airport. They still cling to each other for a good minute. Then Clint is out the door, and Phil goes back to bed, but he only dozes fitfully until his own alarm goes off two hours later.

At least Phil leaves straight from school, and doesn’t have to face the weirdness of going home without Clint. It’s a packed day of classes, too, and a final pre-trip meeting for the debate team, before he, too, hits the road. Clint texts him about twenty pictures of his flight, including some beautiful early-morning shots of pink-golden clouds, and a documentation of a little bag of pretzels with the comment, _They don’t expect anyone to make it through a five-hour flight on these alone, right? Glad I brought my own snacks._ The texts instantly lift Phil’s mood.

It’s a familiar drive to Madison, as is checking into the dorms, picking up his registration package, and getting ready for the opening dinner. Phil enjoys seeing friends from other schools around the state and gets a first look at the team from Eau Claire that is their only real challenger. They seem to be in high spirits, but Phil knows they had a few wobbles in earlier rounds, and so much about this evening is about projecting absolute confidence. Phil and his team are doing the same thing, of course, but in Phil’s opinion, the confidence is justified. 

By the end of the evening, Phil is wiped. He’s glad to room with Josh again, who is quiet and friendly, and who lies on the top bunk with a book. Phil gets ready for bed and settles into the lower bunk, puts his earbuds in, and FaceTimes Clint. 

“Hi,” Clint says, smiling. He sits on a big bed, standard hotel décor behind him. He’s in Phil’s T-shirt. 

“Hi,” Phil replies, answering smile on his face. He can’t deny the thrill of seeing Clint in that shirt. No one may see it or know that it’s Phil’s, but it still feels like a public declaration that they belong together. Perhaps Clint feels similarly at seeing Phil in the grey T-shirt.

“I got my own room! Do you want a tour?”

“Sure.” Phil is surprised to hear that Clint gets to room by himself, but the Bishops probably wanted to make sure that Kate also got her own room and donated accordingly.

Clint starts walking around, pointing out the desk, closet— _there’s even safe in there. Weird, huh?_ , and the bathroom. 

“You can keep the toiletries,” Phil points out.

“Really?” Clint zooms in on the row of little bottles on the sink. “Sweet!”

“But only those. Not the towels or anything else.”

“Okay, got it. I could also buy a five-dollar bottle of water.” Clint points the phone at the bottles lined up next to the TV. “Does anyone actually do that?”

“I’m sure some people do.” In his mind, Phil adds, _Kate probably does it without thinking twice about it_. She seems nice and down-to-earth, but in Phil’s experience, rich people have a different relationship to money than he does, let alone Clint.

“How’s your room?” Clint asks.

“Your typical twenty-year old dorm furniture, but it’s fine.”

“A preview of the fall, huh?”

Phil would rather not think about that, and how nightly FaceTime calls will be the new normal then. “Guess so.”

“Aw, hey, I didn’t want to bring down the mood. Let me get into bed and then it’s almost like I’m there with you.”

A quiet ache flares in Phil’s chest at Clint’s concern and determination to recreate their usual evenings. Phil settles down on his side and props the phone up against the wall. For a minute, Phil only sees the blinding white of hotel linens, until Clint reaches for the phone again. 

“There are like five pillows on this bed. And the bed is huge! Wish we could try it out together.” Clint gives him a very specific look that Phil associates with being kissed within an inch of his life.

Phil swallows down all the answers he most certainly does not want Josh to overhear. “That’d be nice, yeah.”

Clint laughs. “Is your roommate listening in? Oh, don’t tempt me. There’s all kinds of things I could tell you, or show you…” Clint’s free hand slides down his body and out of view.

Phil squirms. “Please don’t.” The last thing Phil needs is Josh unexpectedly climbing down and catching sight of Clint with his dick in his hand.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be good. You feel ready for tomorrow?”

That’s a much safer topic of conversation. “Yes. I think we’re positioned well.”

“Same. We got a tour of the facility this afternoon and it’s amazing. It’ll be fun. And I can’t believe it’s 80 degrees here! And so many palm trees.”

Phil has only been to Florida once when he was twelve and his mom took him to Disney World along with his aunt’s family. Most of his memories condense into it being too hot and there being too many bugs. “Have you met any cockroaches yet?”

Clint shudders. “One flew at my face tonight. At my face! I didn’t even know these fuckers could fly. Gross.”

“Oh, yeah, they fly. And they come out in droves at night.”

“Yikes, good to know. They better stay away from me while I’m shooting.”

“I’m fairly certain you’re safe during the day. Mostly.”

“I’ll keep you updated.”

They fall silent for a little while, just looking at each other.

“I miss you,” Phil says softly.

Clint moves closer to the phone. “Miss you, too.”

“But just one more day, and then—“

Josh’s voice comes from above. “Coulson, just say goodnight to your boyfriend already!”

Clint frowns, suggesting that he heard that. “I hope you’re not rooming with some homophobic asshole.”

“No, it’s not like that. Really.” Clint looks mollified. “But I should go. We have an early start, and so do you.”

Clint sighs. “Yeah, I know. I love you, babe.”

Phil smiles, “Love you, too. Sweet dreams.”

Clint blows him a kiss and ends the call. Phil suppresses a sigh and puts the phone down next to him. He goes over debate tactics until he falls asleep.

**

On the way to the dining hall the next morning, Phil’s mom sends a Lucky update. It consists of three photos: Lucky sitting by the backdoor, Lucky lying in front of the backdoor, and Lucky asleep on his bed, covered by a blanket, also in front of the backdoor. She added, _He really misses you two!_

Clint sends a long string of crying emojis and the plea to give Lucky extra treats, and Phil suggests using some of these treats to coax Lucky up the stairs that night.

Clint also texts Phil: _Go get them! Love you._ Phil replies with purple hearts, arrows, and bows. They agreed to keep the texting during the day to a minimum because they will be too busy for many back-and-forths anyway. Phil also thinks it will make catching up at the end of the day more special.

Clint only sends a _Lunch break!!_ text along with a few hearts, to which Phil responds with a picture of his lunch. It’s not that difficult to get through the day. The rounds of debates consume Phil’s attention. Besides, he is used to days when they barely see each other due to their different schedules this term.

Only in the evening, when he’s exhausted and wishes he could crawl into bed with Clint, does the longing surface again. But even then, Phil is comforted by the idea of getting to talk to Clint and seeing his face. It would be a lot harder if they didn’t have that. Josh is already asleep when Phil gets back to the room, so he tip-toes through getting ready for bed.

Clint answers Phil’s call right away. “You look cozy.”

Phil has the comforter drawn up to this nose. “It’s a little chilly tonight. I’m not sure the heating is on.”

“So the opposite of here. It almost hit 90 here today. The A/C in my room was going at full blast when I got back, which was nice at first, but then I had to turn it way down.” Clint is propped up against four pillows, clearly enjoying the little luxuries of his hotel stay. “Why are you whispering?”

“Josh’s already asleep, so I have to keep my voice down.”

“Got it. At least he won’t tell you to wrap it up, then.”

“As long as he doesn’t wake up. How did the tournament go?” Phil knows there were a variety of rounds today.

“Uh.” Clint rubs the back of his neck. “I kinda won most of them?”

Phil really really wishes he could hug Clint. “That’s amazing! Congrats.”

“Thanks. It felt good. Also, um, there may have been some college scouts there? Who came up to talk to us afterwards. Not for next year, but maybe the year after, and yeah. That was—it was…” Clint waves his hands as if he could grasp words out of the air.

Phil’s smile grows as Clint talks, an immense sense of pride welling up in him. “Congrats, again. I’m so happy for you. They should all be so lucky to get you to come to their school.”

Clint ducks his head. “I didn’t even know there’d be any scouts. Probably better that way.”

“Which schools were they from?”

“Some local Florida colleges, and Stanford, and Columbia.” Phil’s heart flip-flops at that last name. “I didn’t even realize that a school in the middle of a city would have a good archery program, but apparently, they do.”

“Columbia’s not that far from Brown, and Jasper’s in Manhattan, too—“ A whole future unfolds in Phil’s head before he can stop it.

Clint sucks in some air and holds up a hand. “Can we not—I don’t want to think about all this right now. Not because it wouldn’t be awesome, but because it’s too far away and too uncertain and I don’t want to—to get my hopes up for something that may never happen.”

“Sorry, of course.” Phil mimics zipping his lips shut. 

“Thanks. The scouts took down my info and asked if I was going to any summer tournaments, so that might be happening. They were impressed with Kate, too.”

“I’m glad you had such a good day.”

Clint smiles. “Yeah, me too. But tell me about yours.”

“It wasn’t nearly as exciting. The team qualified for the final round tomorrow morning, which was our goal, so mission accomplished.” Phil felt pressure to get this far, but as soon as the first round started up in the morning, he fell into the familiar rhythm of the tournament and only concentrated on the task right in front of him. Being among the final four felt exciting, but not nearly as much as the first year.

“That’s still a huge accomplishment, especially after doing it for the last four years. Way to kick everyone’s ass, babe.”

“Well, there are still a few more asses to kick before—oh, hang on, I just got a text from my mom.”

“So did I.”

Phil opens it and finds a photo of Lucky sprawled across his mom’s bed, along with the caption _Won’t concede an inch!_

“Aww, Luck, no,” Clint says with a sigh. 

“I’m sure my mom doesn’t actually mind and will claim her side of the bed eventually. At least she got up him upstairs.”

Clint nods. “He must be wondering where we are.” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice.

“We’ll give him extra hugs tomorrow.”

“I know. I just wish he’d understand that we’re coming back and didn’t leave him behind.”

“I get that.” Phil understands why this matters to Clint, given his history of people leaving him behind. “At least my mom is there with him, and I’m sure she’s spoiled him.”

A soft smile replaces Clint’s wistfulness. “I’m sure she has.”

“Is it stupid that I’m looking forward to hugging you and Lucky tomorrow?”

Clint draws up his knees, folding his arms around them. “No. Not stupid at all.” He yawns. “D’you wanna go to sleep so tomorrow gets here faster?”

Phil doesn’t want to end the call yet, but he also feels exhausted and knows sleep is a good idea. Especially because he slept well last night despite his expectation of tossing and turning due to Clint not being next to him. “Yeah, okay. You get home around 8pm, right?”

“I know you have my flight schedule memorized. But yes.”

Of course Phil has Clint’s flight schedule committed to memory, but he had to ask anyway. “Okay. Goodnight, then. I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Clint leans in, nearly kissing the screen, and disconnects.

Phil curls up on his side. Less than twenty-four hours to go.

**

The final round the next morning goes smoothly, and Phil’s team easily claims victory. Phil almost wishes it had been more of a challenge, but a real challenge would have put them at risk for losing, and Phil is rather proud of their winning streak. 

Jasper and Maria pick Phil up when he gets back into town—his mom almost insisted, but ultimately understood why Phil preferred to get a ride home from his friends—and they stop at Culver’s for a round of fries and milkshakes. Phil will miss this, too, once they are all off to college. At least they will all be in the same general area of the country, so weekend visits aren’t completely out of the question.

Lucky greets Phil with much enthusiasm, but also keeps looking past Phil, clearly expecting Clint to come home at any moment, too. Lucky sits by the door for another fifteen minutes before giving up and flinging himself down onto Phil’s feet with an annoyed huff. Phil sympathizes; he can’t stop checking his phone for the time, either.

**

“Phil, honey, I know you can’t wait for Clint to get home, but it’s another three hours, so maybe find a way to channel all that nervous energy?”

His mom looks at Phil with a loving but exasperated expression. Phil realizes that he’s been tapping a pencil against the _New York Times_ crossword for god knows how long, and stops, feeling sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Why don’t you take Lucky for a walk?”

Phil feels tired from the tournament and traveling, but agrees that it’s a better use of his time than staring at a crossword puzzle he can’t focus on. “Yeah, okay. Come on, Lucky.” 

Lucky jumps to his feet, and runs to the front door when Phil picks up the leash.

They make a big loop through the neighborhood and out to the adjacent fields. Phil throws a tennis ball for Lucky, and the dog’s boundless energy for chasing after the ball makes him smile. They spend a good hour and a half outside, and Phil feels better when they’re back home.

“Not that long until Clint’s back,” he tells the dog when Phil wipes off his paws. “You’ll see.”

Lucky ambles toward the living room, and Phil makes a cup of herbal tea for himself and his mom. He prefers coffee, but adding caffeine to his system probably isn’t a good idea.

The next few hours pass by slowly, but eventually it’s 8pm, and Phil can’t stop himself from looking up over the back of the couch at every passing car, especially after Clint sends him a text saying, _Getting close!_. 

Finally, a car stops, and Phil sits up straight. Lucky follows suit, ears perking when the car door opens. It’s Clint, and Phil is off the couch in a second, Lucky close on his heels. 

Phil opens the front door, and before he has a chance to grab Lucky’s harness, the dog shoots past him and toward Clint, who’s half-way up the walkway to the house. Lucky nearly bowls Clint over, letting out excited barks, tail going a mile a minute. 

Clint laughs and tries to pet Lucky, who won’t be still until Clint squats to get on his eye-level. Lucky licks Clint’s face as Clint continues to laugh, a few shrieks mingling in when Lucky’s tongue catches a nostril. At last, Lucky has thoroughly greeted Clint and lets him walk to the door. 

“Hi,” Clint says to Phil and his mom, wiping a sleeve over his face. 

Phil’s “Welcome back” mingles with his mom’s “Welcome home.” Phil takes a step toward Clint so he can finally hold him again, but Clint waves him off. “Lemme get the dog slobber off my face first.”

That’s a good thought. Clint hangs up his jacket and leaves his suitcase by the door, then walks to the kitchen, Phil and Lucky right behind him.

“You know where to find me,” Phil’s mom says as she returns to the couch. 

Clint scrubs his face with soap and finds a clean kitchen towel to dry his face. As soon as he’s done, Phil pushes into his space, and Clint hauls him close. Phil’s eyes close as he rests his head on Clint’s shoulder. He hears and feels Clint sigh. 

“Missed you so much,” Clint mumbles.

“Me too.” Phil knows rationally that it hasn’t been long since they last saw each other, but it has _felt_ much longer than two and a half days.

Phil pulls back a little and studies Clint, who looks back at him with an amused expression. “What?”

“Freckles,” Phil says and draws a finger down Clint’s nose. “I thought I saw some in the pic you sent me this morning, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Ah, yeah, I get those sometimes when I’m in the sun a lot. But no sunburn! Kate had a timer for sunscreen reapplication, and she made everyone actually do it.”

Phil nods and wonders if the freckles have appeared elsewhere. On Clint’s shoulders, maybe; if there are any, Phil plans to lick every one of them. 

Clint looks at Phil’s lips and then up at his eyes. “Kiss me?”

Phil smiles and leans in. They’re both smiling, which really doesn’t work for kissing, and then Clint snorts, and Phil pulls away. They both laugh. 

“Wow, two days, and we’re out of practice,” Clint quips. “Let’s try that again.”

This time, the kiss is perfect, and even though it starts out sweet, it morphs into something deeper. Clint’s hands drop down to Phil’s hips, and Phil pushes closer to Clint, and before they know it, they are pressed up against each other and nearly panting into each other’s mouths.

“Upstairs,” Clint mumbles.

Phil nods even though that means walking past the living room, and thus his mom, who will take one look at their flushed faces and eager pace and know exactly what’s about to happen. Yet, Phil can’t bring himself to care. 

They rush to Phil’s room, shutting the door in Lucky’s face, who whines at them.

“We’ll be right back,” Clint calls out to him before kissing Phil again. 

They stumble across the room until Clint pushes Phil against his desk and goes to his knees in front of him. With both hands at the edge of Phil’s sweatpants, he asks, “Can I?”

Phil nods fervently, hands closing around the edge of the desk. He feels like he may need something to hold on to.

Clint draws down Phil’s sweatpants and boxers and swallows Phil down. 

Phil nearly doubles over from the sudden onslaught of pleasure and slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the keening sound tearing out of his throat. 

Clint doesn’t let up. His tongue works Phil over ruthlessly, his thumbs digging into the grooves of Phil’s hips, and the pressure from Clint’s lips is almost too much. Phil sucks in breath after breath through his fingers as his other hand winds into Clint’s hair. 

At last, just before Phil thinks he’s going to come within the next ten seconds, Clint’s slows down, tonguing over the head of Phil’s cock in lazy swirls before pulling off completely. 

Phil lets out a protesting noise.

“Wanna see you come,” Clint explains. He stands and carefully tilts Phil backwards, a hand on Phil’s back steadying him until he’s lying on the desk, which Phil thankfully cleared off before they left. Clint’s left hand cradles the back of Phil’s head as he reaches for Phil’s cock with his right. 

Phil can’t take his eyes off of Clint, who looks at him with so much adoration, a light flush stealing over his sun-kissed face. He fumbles with the button and zipper of Clint’s jeans. “Argh, help me, my coordination’s shot.”

Together, they manage to shove Clint’s jeans and underwear out of the way enough to get his cock out and aligned with Phil’s. 

“Fuck,” Clint bites out as they slide against each other. “Not gonna last long.”

Phil hasn’t come in three days, so he’s right there with Clint. He turns his face until he can kiss Clint’s wrist. Clint shivers and bears down harder. “Your hand, please, can you—” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint replies, his hand curling around both of them, palm twisting until it’s slippery with precome. The first stroke up and down makes Phil’s hips twitch up in the search of more friction.

Phil manages to free his legs from his clothes and draws his knees up, framing Clint’s sides.

“Babe, god, yes.” Clint kisses Phil’s neck, his hand moving at just the right speed.

Phil wishes that Clint would fuck him, would get him to that place where everything’s unmoored and nothing matters, but he doesn’t want to stop. He wraps an arm around Clint’s shoulders, bringing him closer. It shifts more of Clint’s weight onto Phil, and that’s good, that is so good. Phil whimpers.

Clint nuzzles his cheek. “I know. I got you.”

They move together, the desk creaking beneath them, but Phil is beyond caring about that. He holds on to Clint and sinks into the pleasure Clint wrings out of him until a swipe of Clint’s thumb along the side of Phil’s clock is enough to ignite his orgasm in a sudden, bright spark. 

“So beautiful,” Clint whispers, his touch remaining steady and sure. It’s just about to become too much when Clint shivers and curses, coming in slow pulses. 

Phil gently scratches his fingers across Clint’s nape as they catch their breath. Clint presses a few uncoordinated kisses to the middle of Phil’s chest before resting his cheek against it. 

“Can’t decide between wanting to go to sleep and wanting something to eat,” Clint mumbles.

“Maybe we can start by getting up?” As much as Phil loves Clint’s weight on him, the desk isn’t the most comfortable surface to lie on.

Clint grumbles, but lifts away from Phil, their bellies separating with a sucking noise. “Uh, let’s add getting cleaned up to that list.”

Phil looks down at this stomach. “Definitely a priority.”

They dash into the bathroom, barely managing to keep Lucky out, and take quick turns in the shower. 

“My mom made mac ‘n cheese,” Phil says as they walk downstairs, Lucky running past them and straight toward the kitchen.

“Celebration dinner.” 

“Yeah.” It makes Phil happy that Clint knows this, a little nugget of shared family knowledge.

“Are you boys hungry?” Phil’s mom asks, standing up from the couch.

“Starving,” Clint admits.

“I was thinking ice cream,” Phil says, hurrying toward the kitchen so he doesn’t have to look at his mom. Now that his brain is no longer lust-fogged, a twinge of embarrassment hits him at his and Clint’s eager rush upstairs.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll join you. I could go for some ice cream myself.”

“Of course,” Clint says.

Phil pulls the mac ‘n cheese from the fridge and slides it on the counter toward Clint, then busies himself with getting ice cream, bowls, and silverware, all the while studiously keeping his eyes forward. 

Clint shoots him an inquisitive look, but Phil ignores him. Clint falls silent, too, and Phil can feel his confusion. 

Phil’s mom steps up behind them, and Phil nearly jumps. “Okay, let’s just get this out in the open,” she starts. “We all know that you went upstairs to have sex.”

Phil groans, and Clint snorts. “Guilty as charged,” he adds.

“No need to feel guilty,” she points out sternly. “You haven’t seen each other in a couple of days, you needed to reconnect, so you did.”

Clint nods.

Turning toward Phil, she asks, “Honey?” 

Phil looks at her. Through sheer force of will, he manages not to squirm. “We did…reconnect.”

She gives him an encouraging smile. “Good. That’s important.”

Phil longs for the power to turn invisible. “Uhuh.”

Clint adds, “Thanks for always being so cool about all that. The sex stuff. It means a lot to us. Right, Phil?”

Phil nods. He is grateful for that, too, and he knows they are lucky. And he loves his mom, but he can’t have a casual conversation about his sex life with her. It’s just too weird. “Do you want sprinkles, mom?”

“I’d love some.”

The conversation turns toward ice cream toppings, and, once they have sat down at the dining table, toward their successful trips. Phil already told his mom about the debate tournament while they had dinner earlier, so the attention is mostly on Clint, who tells stories about cockroaches, and arrows lost in palm trees, and getting the nickname ‘Hawkeye’ from Kate because Clint didn’t miss a single target the entire weekend.

Phil thinks Hawkeye is fitting for Clint, who is more observant and perceptive than most people assume, and who rarely misses what’s going on around him even if he doesn’t comment on it. His observational skills are probably born from a survival instinct; without much parental guidance, Clint had to start paying attention to his environment in order to make sure he stayed on top of his school work and find ways to scrounge for food and other necessities when he couldn’t find them at home. While Clint doesn’t need to do that anymore, he keeps an eye on Phil. Never in an intrusive way, but as a steadying presence. Hence the milkshakes Phil often receives on a bad day, or a long hug between classes, or an encouraging text before a quiz. Phil hopes he does the same for Clint; he’s certainly kicked his attention up a notch after the whole Model UN week from hell. 

They do the dishes together, and watch some TV with Phil’s mom before agreeing to head to bed early.

“Phil, can I have a moment?” His mom asks.

“Sure,” he sits back down. To Clint, he says, “I’ll be right there.”

Clint nods and follows Lucky up the stairs.

Phil has no idea what his mom wants to discuss; can’t tell if it’s something serious or the grocery list for the coming week. “Uh, so…?”

She looks at him with an earnest expression. “I wanted to apologize if I embarrassed you earlier. I thought it would be easier to get what we all knew out into the open, but I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Oh.” Phil looks down at his hands. “It was a little weird. But I agree with Clint. I’m glad that you don’t mind that Clint and I, you know, at home.”

She smiles. “And the ‘you know’ is still going well?”

Phil knows he’s blushing, but he can’t help it. “Yeah. It’s—“ He’s usually not at a loss for words, but he doesn’t know how to convey how incredible it is to be with Clint, the kind of feelings and sensations he can draw out of Phil, and how that makes Phil feel utterly vulnerable and completely safe that the same time. “It’s really good.” 

She gives him a knowing nod. 

“Can I go now?”

She laughs and makes shooing motions. “Go on and snuggle your man.”

“Mom! Ugh.” She is right of course. Phil has every intention to curl up in bed with Clint. 

“I’m just teasing. Goodnight!”

Phil musters a smile. He doesn’t want her to think that he’s upset; at this point, he’s exhausted from the rollercoaster feelings of the past few days. 

Once Phil gets into bed, he immediately shifts over to Clint’s pillow, lying down close enough for their foreheads to touch. Clint wraps an arm around Phil, their legs slot together, and they both let out a sigh of contentment once they’ve settled.

Phil listens to the familiar sounds around him: the creaking of the house, Lucky’s snuffles, and Clint’s steady breathing. He knows without a doubt that he wants this for months and years to come; that he’ll always want to come home to Clint. 

“I wanna ask you something,” Clint begins, “But not if you’re too tired and just want to go to sleep.”

“Ask away.” Phil feels sleepy, but he wants to stay awake for a while longer to soak up the feeling of being able to share the same bed with Clint again.

“Was it hard for you to be away from me?”

The question surprises Phil. They’ve both told each other multiple times over the last three days that they miss the other, but Phil can see how that can easily be a pat response, something that would be a standard phrase to say in their situation of a couple spending time apart. “It was.” While that’s the truth, it’s not the entire truth. “But maybe not as devastatingly hard as I thought.” He checks Clint’s reaction, braces himself for seeing disappointment on Clint’s face, but Clint continues to look at him with warmth in his eyes. “I thought maybe I wouldn’t be able to sleep, or to focus on debating, or that I’d hate every minute of the tournament. But I didn’t. I slept, and I enjoyed the challenge of the competition. I think it’s because I knew that you’d be there at the end of the day and at the end of the weekend.”

“Yeah, that’s—that’s the same for me. Fuck, it’s so good to hear you say that because I loved being there and learning new things and meeting all these cool people who love archery. And I missed you a ton, but like you said, it was just temporary.”

Phil has to kiss Clint in response, unable to think of another way to show Clint how relieved he is that they are on the same page, and that the looming fall separation is no longer as scary as it seemed for a long time. When Clint’s tongue sweeps into his mouth, Phil lets out a needy sound, and the kiss could have easily turned into something more heated if Clint didn’t keep things slow and gentle with just enough intensity underneath that Phil loses himself in their shared closeness.

“Wish you could’ve fucked me earlier,” Phil mumbles, all of his filters momentarily erased.

“Oh?” Clint asks, hushed. “I would have.”

Phil swallows, and he’s half-tempted to ask Clint for it now. But Phil knows he’d never be able to let go fully with his mom downstairs. “If we had done that, I don’t know if I could have looked at my mom this evening, and that would have been even more awkward than it already was. Besides, my back would have hated me. There’s a reason it’s called hardwood.”

Clint laughs. “There are so many directions I could take the hardwood thing, but I’ll let it slide. Soon, though, okay?”

“Okay.” Phil snuggles closer to Clint. “Tell me another Florida story.”

“Hmm, let’s see. We had this fucking amazing fresh orange and raspberry juice for breakfast one morning…”


	26. Cradle Me Safely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the final chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has been on this journey with me since last September and steadily commented on every chapter. Your comments have brought me so much joy. <3
> 
> I already have an idea for at least one more fic in this universe.... :)

The first warm spring day finds Phil leaning against the hood of the truck after school, head tilted toward the sun. Despite some cold mornings, winter is finally behind them. Small green leaves dot some bushes and early flowers peek through the soil. Phil takes a deep breath.

Movement catches his attention: Clint comes bounding toward him, a big smile on his face. “It’s happening!” He calls out from twenty feet away. “The archery summer camp! Twenty kids signed up!” Once he reaches Phil, he grabs him by the hips and twirls him around before drawing him close.

Phil laughs, almost tripping over his feet, but secure in the knowledge that Clint won’t let him fall. “Congrats! That’s amazing.”

Clint noses along Phil’s neck and whispers, “Do you know what that means? I can quit my job at Culver’s. I’ll make more in a month at the camp than I’d make all summer there.” Then he pulls back to look at Phil. “We get to spend the summer together. We can do all the things we talked about—camping at the lake, lazy days of doing nothing, maybe even that ‘Midwest weirdness’ road trip with Jasper and Maria.”

The joy emanating from Clint pours into Phil and makes him feel light on his feet. The summer suddenly fills with even more possibilities, more time with Clint. At the urging of his mom, Phil decided not to look for a job this summer. _It’s your summer before college, and you should enjoy it_ , she’d said. If Clint wasn’t in his life or if Brown’s financial aid package had been less generous, he’d probably ignore her advice, but it was easy to nod and agree. And now the summer holds even more promise.

Phil kisses Clint, soft at first, then with more purpose as Clint’s hand winds into his hair. They press closer together, tongues come into play, and Phil is just about to wiggle his way on top of the hood so he can pull Clint between his legs when wolf whistles indicate that the parking lot isn’t as deserted as he thought. Phil pulls out of the kiss to look around, locating the girls who are part of the prom committee cheering and blowing kisses in their direction. Clint gives them a thumbs-up and Phil hopes that he won’t find pictures and videos of their kiss across social media.

Although fuck it, they have nothing to be embarrassed about, and maybe they even looked hot. Clint most certainly did, and Phil wouldn’t mind seeing a picture of Clint kissing him within an inch of his life.

“Got a little carried away,” Clint mumbles.

“I didn’t mind.”

“Oh.” Clint bites his lip. “Okay then.”

Phil draws a finger down Clint’s nose where freckles have reemerged during the last few days. They never completely disappeared after the trip to Florida, but had faded. Phil rather likes their return.

“You have a freckle obsession,” Clint observes.

“I didn’t see you complain when I explored those freckles that one night.” Phil kissed and licked his way across Clint’s body in search of freckles until Clint was panting with need.

Clint grins. “No complaints there. We can play ‘find the freckle’ again any time.”

Phil agrees. “Let’s go home. Seems like a good day to set up the table and chairs on the porch, and then we can do homework out there.”

Clint slides his hand into Phil’s front pocket to retrieve the car keys and lets his fingers linger just long enough to make Phil squirm. “I’d love that.”

Phil suspects that they won’t get to setting up the porch right away, and he’s more than fine with that.

**

“So, here’s the plan.” Jasper spreads out actual blueprints of the school, annotated in several colors, with names and times and arrows all over it.

It’s Friday movie night, and they met half an hour earlier than usual to go over Jasper’s promposal.

“Huh,” Phil says, trying to get a grasp of the whole operation.

“Wow,” Clint adds. 

“So, what do you need us to do?” Maria asks.

“Straight to point, I like it,” Jasper replies. “If you take a look at the legend, you’ll see that each of you have a designated color along with time codes of where you should be throughout the day.”

“Throughout…the day?” Clint asks.

“Go big or go home,” Jasper declares. “Eva deserves the most spectacular promposal this school has ever seen.”

Phil is relieved that he doesn’t have to go through the whole promposal thing. He hasn’t talked about prom with Clint, but assumes that he’ll be going solo as Clint has made his opinion on school dances very clear. Phil respects it even if he would love to take Clint to prom. But he’d never impose a situation on Clint that makes him uncomfortable. Maybe they can have another living room dance, like they had after winter formal.

“Are those stickers supposed to represent swans?” Maria squints at the dots on the football field.

“Yes! Good eye. They are trained swans.”

Phil doubts that you can train swans, but at least they are not Canada geese. No matter how this promposal goes, he has the feeling that Jasper will end up on the local news.

Clint gestures at the blueprints. “Alright, walk us through the plan.”

**

The day of the promposal, dawn arrives with fluffy pink clouds, promising a sunny day. Phil is relieved that the actual school day will be a light one—no essays due and no quizzes—because he’s going to need about sixty percent of his brain power to keep track of Operation Swan Song. They tried to convince Jasper that the name may invite bad luck, but Jasper didn’t budge. _There will be music and swans, so it’s perfect_ , he insisted.

As it turns out, Jasper was right to be confident. The op unfolds according to plan, minor hiccups nothwithstanding, like Phil having to race through half the school to set up a cupcake display with burning candles just a minute before Eva turned the corner after her Bio class, and Clint tripped over a trash can, but still managed to hit “play” on his phone to activate the cafeteria sound system to greet Eva with a perfectly curated playlist for lunch.

The day culminates on the football field. The cheerleading squad throws rose petals as Eva makes her way to the center, where Jasper waits surrounded by swans, who do indeed seem tame, and one pair even bows their necks together to form a heart.

“I can’t tell if I find this whole thing ridiculous or if I’m charmed by it,” Clint whispers as they watch from the bleachers along with about half of the student body. News of the elaborate promposal treasure hunt spread like wildfire around the school.

“It’s sweet, but also a lot.” Phil enjoys planning surprises, but he’d never put himself or Clint through something this public. 

Eva is about twenty feet away from Jasper when a local news van screeches to a halt at the edge of the field, a cameraman and one of the anchors scrambling out to get the actual promposal on tape.

There is a sincere declaration of affection on Jasper’s part, the all-important “Will you go to prom with me?” question, to which Eva gives a tearful “Yes!” as an answer, a personalized cheer, and a small fireworks display. The swans remain calm throughout the entire thing, and Phil wonders if they were given sedatives.

Jasper and Eva make their way over to the news anchor for an interview, and the crowd starts to disperse.

As they walk down the bleachers, Clint says, “I gotta say that I’m impressed that it all went off without a hitch. When I first saw those blueprints, I was expecting this to end in a total clusterfuck.”

“That’s Jasper for you, the mastermind behind the scenes.” Many people think that Phil is king of organizing, but that’s only because his planning skills are more overtly on display. Jasper is just as good, but prefers to work in less public ways, with a few exceptions like the promposal or the annual food drive.

“Wanna get ice cream and then make out on the couch until your mom gets home from work?” Clint asks.

Phil laughs. “I’d love that.”

**

The following Saturday, Phil and Clint sit on the stairs leading up to the back porch, each of them on the opposite end of one step, backs against the railing and legs tangled comfortably. Phil looks up from his comic to watch Lucky romp through the yard. He’s already rolled in the grass three times, leaving green streaks in his fur. He’ll need a full hose-down before he’s allowed back into the house.

Phil is still in the stage of early spring amazement when he marvels at being outside in a sweatshirt without feeling cold, and actually enjoying the breeze instead of flinching away from any sign of wind. 

“Hey Phil?”

“Hmm?” Phil watches Lucky sniff in a flower bed. Was that the one with the tulip bulbs in it? 

“Do you want to go to prom with me?”

Phil’s brain screeches to a halt. He looks at Clint. “What?”

Clint ducks his head for a moment before his gaze flicks back up to Phil. “Prom? Do you wanna go with me?”

Phil blinks. “But—you—I thought—“

Clint shrugs. “Yeah, I know. But I want to go with you. I want to get dressed up, and go to that fancy hotel, and dance with you.” 

“You do?” Phil is still processing that Clint asked him to prom, which he never ever expected.

“Yeah.” Clint looks at him, fond and hopeful and nervous, his thumb rubbing circles into the palm of his other hand. “So, will you go with me?”

Right, Phil hasn’t actually given Clint an answer yet. “Of course.” He leans closer, resting one hand on Clint’s thigh as he kisses Clint. “I’d love to go with you. Thanks for asking.”

Clint lets out a breath. “Okay. Phew.”

Phil smiles. “Did you think I might say no?”

“Not really, but…” Clint looks off to the side. “I dunno, there was a tiny chance.”

“There was never a chance I’d say no to going to prom with you,” Phil says softly. Clint’s hands are still twisting over one another, so Phil lays his hand on top, stilling the movement. “I’m glad you asked because I wouldn’t have.”

Clint takes Phil’s hand and looks back at him. “I figured. Because of what I said about school dances before.”

Phil nods. “What made you change your mind?”

“I haven’t changed my mind about dances in general, but this one…I feel like I’ve found my little corner at school where I can belong. With you, and Maria, and Jasper, and the archery team. And I wanna celebrate that, and your senior prom only happens once, right? Plus I get to watch you look unbelievably hot in a suit for an entire evening.”

“I don’t know about unbelievably hot,” Phil says. Obviously Clint is biased in his assessment.

“Oh, but I do.” Clint gives him a look that says he fully believes in the high degree of hotness that is Phil in formal wear. “And then I get to peel you out of that suit when we get back home.”

Phil coughs. “Okay, yeah, that sounds like something I can get behind.” Besides, he gets to see Clint in a suit, and that is one enticing thought. 

“That’s settled, then.”

“It is.” Phil has to kiss Clint again. Holy shit, he’s going to prom with his boyfriend. 

**  
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?” Phil asks for the tenth time, glancing at Maria idling in her car at the end of the driveway.

“Yup.” Clint pulls on a hoodie and kisses Phil’s cheek. “I want it to be a surprise.” He opens the front door. As he jogs toward Maria’s car, he looks back over his shoulder. “Bye!” 

Phil waves at him and resigns himself to an impatient wait while Clint and Maria shop for suits. It’s a sweet gesture that Clint wants his prom outfit to be a surprise, but Phil also has opinions, and more importantly, experience when it comes to buying suits. Though knowing Maria, she did thorough research for this shopping trip and will make sure that Clint looks good.

Phil flops down on the couch and puts on a mindless movie. Lucky ambles over, jumps up on the couch, and lies down with his head in Phil’s lap. “Clint should have taken us with him, right? Silly Clint for making us wait at home.”

Lucky looks up at Phil and nudges his hand. 

“Alright, I get it.” Phil starts petting Lucky, who soon falls asleep.

An hour later, Maria texts Phil a picture of a lapel. It’s a little out of focus, which she most certainly did on purpose.

_Tease_ , Phil texts back.

She replies with, _Do you want me to stop?_

“Argh!” Phil says out lout. _No_.

He gets more texts with photos that offer tiny glimpses of various suits and ties. Phil zooms in on details in the hope for more information, but Maria is too good at this. _At least tell me the color of the tie you decide on? And ask Clint if he’s okay with me buying a butonniere for his lapel_. Since they are going to prom, Phil is going all in on the traditions. 

Ten minutes later, he gets a photo of a tie whose color is right between light lavender and grey. Intriguing. Phil can work with that.

Clint comes home forty-five minutes later with a garment bag over his shoulder. “No peeking!” He instructs as he carries the goods upstairs.

“I won’t,” Phil promises, his mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out the suit color based on the color of the tie Clint picked out.

**

For the next two weeks, the garment bag hangs on the back of Phil’s closet door, promise and temptation rolled into one. 

Finally, the day of their senior prom arrives, and Phil spends most of it on the phone fielding last-minute calls about flower arrangements and table cloths. He’s in the middle of arguing with Kaleigh-Anne about the distance between tables—which they had agreed on months ago—when Clint steps into his field of vision with a small wave.

“I have to go,” Phil says. “No, we’re not changing it because then the overall distribution of the tables doesn’t work with the dancefloor.” He lets her get half a sentence of protest in, then cuts her off with, “Please just stick to the plan,” and hangs up.

“Everything okay?” Clint asks.

“Yes.” Phil sighs. Clint raises an eyebrow at him. “It’s just stupid little stuff, really. What’s up?”

“I was wondering,” Clint begins, shifting from one foot to the other. “If you’d go for a drive with me. Just for a little while.”

The way Clint asked, and his uncertain stance, makes Phil think that this is the prelude to something important. They still have a few hours until they need to get ready. “Sure. Do you want to take Lucky?”

“No. I want it to be just us.”

That only affirms that this is important. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Phil texts his mom, who is out to lunch with friends, as they head to the garage. He gets into the truck on the passenger side, curious about their destination. A few minutes into their drive, which unfolds along very familiar roads, Phil asks, “Are we headed to school?”

Clint hums in affirmation.

This isn’t what Phil expected. 

They pull into the empty parking lot, and Clint takes Phil’s hand as they start walking. They bypass the main building and head toward the football field. Clint leads them across it and up into the bleachers, only stopping when they reach the top. He sits, and tugs Phil down next to him.

“I know this spot,” Phil says. It’s where they sat for Homecoming.

“Thought you might,” Clint says. A soft smile plays over his face. 

“Why did you bring me here?”

Clint turns to Phil. “Because I wanted to have a moment to think about this year with you. Sometimes I feel the days go by so fast because there’s always so much to do and there’s no way to just stop and notice time passing by. How is it May already? Seems like it was January last week.”

The last couple of months did fly by. “School’s almost over.”

“Yeah, exactly.” 

The breeze ruffles Clint’s hair. The cool wind feels good in the afternoon sun, such a contrast to the cutting gusts they’d experienced in October. 

“I wanted to kiss you so badly that night,” Clint says. “After the game.”

Phil’s heart stutters. He remembers that moment so well, when he tried to stretch out the time before they had to head off into different directions. “I would have been fine with that.”

Clint smiles. “I know that now, but then…I wasn’t sure. I mean, I was pretty sure that you were interested in me—”

“I held your hand under the blanket for the whole game. That was a clear sign that I was interested. Or at least I thought it was.”

“It was, but…” Clint looks out over the field. “I didn’t know if I wanted to drag you into my shitty life. I didn’t think you deserved that. But I also knew that if I let myself fall for you, I’d fall hard, and that I wouldn’t want to keep secrets from you. So I didn’t kiss you.”

“You kissed my neck. Sort of. After I gave you my jacket.”

Clint ducks his head. “Couldn’t resist. I never knew that you noticed that.”

“Oh, I noticed.” Phil leans into Clint and wraps an arm around his waist. “You fell asleep, too, during the game.”

“That was such an exhausting week. And you…” Clint glances at Phil. “You’d already been doing these nice things for me. Feeding me granola bars and lasagna. So you were safe. Safe to be around and let my guard down a little.”

Phil swallows. His heart aches thinking back on those weeks of knowing things were difficult for Clint and feeling helpless about what to do about it. “I did what I could.”

“It just made me like you more.”

“So you didn’t kiss me after the game, but do you think you would have? Eventually? Even if the accident never happened?”

Clint nods. “I would’ve tried really hard to stay just friends, but I think that even at that point, I was already gone on you, so if we had continued to hang out, I probably would have done something stupid like kiss you out of the blue one day.”

That sounds right. “And I would have been utterly grateful then because I would have pined away quietly, telling myself that your life was complicated enough and that you didn’t need me to make it even more complicated—”

“Did you really think that?”

“I knew that there were things about your family that you weren’t ready to share. I suspected things weren’t easy. So no, I wouldn’t have made the first move.”

Clint looks at Phil for a long moment. “So both of us would have been idiots about it, in other words.”

Phil laughs. “At least until Maria staged an intervention. Which she would have.”

“For sure.” Clint’s smile fades. “But things didn’t play out that way.”

“No.”

They sit together, each lost in their thoughts.

“It’s still so fucking hard some days,” Clint says softly.

Phil pulls Clint closer and tucks his face against Clint’s neck. “I know.”

“Last week, I didn’t think about my mom until lunch, and when I realized that, I was horrified.”

Phil knows exactly what day Clint is talking about. Clint abruptly stood up in the middle of lunch, explaining that he forgot about a test and had to cram in the library. It seemed weird, but also not completely impossible as it had been a trying week, and Clint seemed fine when they met up at the end of the day to drive home. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because…” Clint halts. “Because I didn’t want to hurt more than I already did. And talking to you would have dragged all the pain to the surface again, and I just couldn’t. I wanted a normal evening, with dinner and homework and quiet conversation before going to sleep.”

“Okay.” Phil understands. Or understands as much as he can given that he hasn’t experienced the same kind of grief as Clint has. “I’ll always listen if you need me to, though.”

“I know.” Clint turns his head to capture Phil’s lips, and they share a soft kiss. “You’re always there for me, and it means the world to me.”

“That feeling’s very much mutual.”

Clint takes a deep breath. “Ugh, I didn’t mean for this to turn into a depressing conversation. I mostly wanted to come here and say, ‘hey, remember that time when we snuggled under blanket during a football game and it was awesome?’”

“It was awesome.” Phil looks at Clint, and once again marvels that this gorgeous, kind, and caring guy loves him, Phil Coulson, nerd extraordinaire. 

“What?” Clint asks. 

“Nothing.”

Clint tilts his head. “Oh no, you definitely had Thoughts.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “They were very sappy thoughts.”

Clint smiles. “I see.” He skims his fingers up Phil’s bare arm to the edge of his sleeve, and then higher, until he settles his hand close to Phil’s neck, thumb brushing over his throat. “I love you, babe.”

Phil shivers at the intimacy of the touch, and the weight of those words. “Love you, too.”

**

“Can you help me with my tie? Please? This thing is impossible.”

Phil smiles at Clint’s plaintive question. Noises of increasing frustration have come from the other side of the room for the last few minutes, but Phil didn’t turn around. “What happened to ‘let’s not look at each other before we’re fully dressed’?” Phil gives his bow tie a final tug. He’s done, but based on Clint’s huffs, he suspects that he’s the only one.

“I have most of my clothes on, so that counts.”

“Alright.” Phil turns around. Clint is in silvery-grey pants and a white shirt that is half-untucked. The purple-grey tie dangles from his neck and his feet are bare. It’s so Clint that Phil’s heart nearly bursts with love. It doesn’t escape his notice that the pants and shirt fit perfectly, just tight enough to give a hint of the trim muscles underneath. 

Clint walks over, eyes moving up and down Phil’s body. “How are you so…” He gestures at Phil. “So perfectly put together?”

“Practice.” And a good tailor. He reaches for the obstinate tie and starts on a simple knot.

Clint’s eyes track Phil’s hands. “You’re so good at that.”

Phil feels heat in his cheeks. “Again, practice.” He finishes the knot and tightens it, then smooths the corners of Clint’s collar. “There.”

“Thank you.” Clint tucks in his shirt. “Lemme finish getting dressed.”

Phil watches as Clint puts on socks and a vest—a vest! Phil owes Maria big time—and finally, his jacket. He looks stunning, but Phil can tell that Clint isn’t entirely comfortable in these formal clothes.

“Ta-da,” Clint says weakly. “I feel weird. Like I’m playing dress-up.”

“You look amazing.” 

“I do?”

Phil takes a step closer. “Yes.” He can tell that the suit will move with Clint and show off every single asset that he has. Phil glances at the half-open door and lowers his voice. “If we didn’t have anywhere to be, I’d go on my knees for you right now.”

“Fuck. You can’t—these pants have zero room for—argh!” Clint looks at the ceiling and takes a deep breath.

Phil can tell that Clint’s pants hide nothing. He almost feels bad, but they still have thirty minutes, and he wants Clint to know that these clothes can be as much a part of him as hoodies and jeans. 

After another minute, Clint stops looking up. “Okay. Not sure how I’ll get through the evening with you looking like this, though.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you can manage.”

Clint takes a step closer. “Only if I get this out of my system first.” He sneaks his hands under Phil’s jacket and around to his back to pull him close.

Phil is a little miffed because his shirt is getting wrinkles, but forgets all about it when Clint kisses him until Phil sees stars behind his eyelids. Phil blinks a few times after Clint pulls away. “We should, um, go downstairs.” If they don’t, Phil worries that their whole prom plan may get derailed because they can’t keep their hands off each other.

“Hmm, yes.” Then Clint kisses him again.

“Boys!” Phil’s mom calls out from downstairs. “Five minutes until pick-up!”

Phil and Clint let go of each other, both breathing heavily and decidedly not looking at the other. 

“Ready?” Phil asks a minute later.

“Good to go.”

They walk downstairs, where Phil’s mom waits with her phone in her hand. About ten pictures and an embarrassing amount of compliments later, she lets them go.

“One second,” Phil says and disappears into the kitchen. He retrieves the small plastic container he hid there last night. “This is for you,” Phil says as he hands it over to Clint.

Clint looks down at the purple rose bud resting on white tissue paper. “Oh. Can you—will you help me with it?”

“Of course.” Phil carefully pins the rose to Clint’s lapel as his mom takes another round of pictures and Lucky winds around their legs. 

Clint looks at the rose and smiles. “I got you something, too.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and hands Phil a small box. 

It contains a pin of two arrows flying side by side. All words are stuck in Phil’s throat. His vision goes a little blurry. He holds out the box to Clint, who understands without needing further instruction, and fastens the pin to Phil’s suit.

His mom sniffles.

“Please don’t,” Phil tells her because if she starts to cry, he won’t be able to hold back the tears anymore, either. 

“I’m okay,” she says with a watery smile. She’s still holding her phone, which means she probably got the whole rose-and-pin exchange on video.

A loud honking saves them all from any further emotional outbursts. Phil’s mom insists on quick hugs before she ushers them out the door.

Jasper pops out of the limo’s sun roof, holding what suspiciously looks like a bottle of champagne, but is probably just apple cider. “Let’s paaaaaarty!”

Phil laughs and pulls Clint with him. 

**

As they walk up the stairs to the ballroom, from which a loud bass and laughter float toward them, Clint holds Phil back. 

“Second thoughts?” Phil asks. He smiles at Maria, who walks past them hand-in-hand with Vicky, who showed up for a surprise visit. Phil has rarely seen Maria happier.

“No, just wanted to have a moment.” Clint slides his hand into Phil’s. “D’you like the pin?”

“I love it,” Phil says softly. 

A happy smile spreads over Clint’s face. “I saw it, and it made me think of—of us.”

“I got that.”

“Sorry, I wanted to make sure you weren’t wondering why I’m giving you a pin with two arrows, and I’ll shut up now.” Clint pauses. “I’m a little nervous. This is way fancier than anything I’ve ever gone to.”

Phil takes Clint’s other hand. “That’s okay. And we can leave at any time. I’m really glad you’re here with me. This is just for us, and that’s all that matters.”

Clint looks at him with unguarded adoration. “Then let’s go and have the best time.”

Phil smiles. “Lead the way.”

**

They take an initial tour of the room, which looks as much as an enchanted forest as you can get a ballroom to do, and stop at the various selfie stations. Phil has to admit that taking selfies probably leads to better and less embarrassing pictures than an official photographer, but he also mourns the loss of that tradition a little. 

It warms his heart to see Clint stop and chat with various people, or being stopped to be ohh-ed and ahh-ed over, which Clint endures with some shuffling of his feet and ducking of his head, his hand always firmly clasped with Phil’s.

It turns out that dancing is the one physical activity Clint isn’t good at. His dance style is all flailing limbs and exuberant joy, and Phil loves it. Clint drags him onto the dancefloor when the first song with a fast beat appears, ditching his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, and they stay there for five songs. Phil can’t stop watching Clint dance, and his cheeks hurt from laughing so much.

**

Halfway through the evening, Phil fulfills his last duty as Prom Committee chair by announcing this year’s prom king and queen.

A small stage gets wheeled onto the dancefloor, and Phil takes the mike. “I’ll make this quick because I know that you aren’t here to hear me talk, but to get the results.”

“We love you, Coulson!” Someone shouts from the crowd.

“Thanks. Much appreciated, but I still can’t get you extra tickets to graduation.”

A chuckle goes through the crowd.

“Anyway, without further ado, this year’s prom king and queen are Jasper Sitwell and Eva Martinez!”

Cheers, whistles, and clapping nearly drown out the loud music that starts playing. Jasper and Eva make their way to the stage, and Phil steps aside to let Kaleigh-Anne take over coronation duties. 

There’s more cheering, a few tears on Eva’s part, Jasper commandeering the mike to thank everyone who voted for them and to declare this the best night ever, and way too many pictures. 

Then it’s Phil’s turn again. He squints against the spotlight and searches the crowd, pleased to find Clint in the front row. He keeps looking at him. “The next song is a request I made for someone who is very special to me.” Phil sees the surprise on Clint’s face and smiles. “I encourage all of you to find the person who is special to you and ask them to dance.”

Phil steps off the stage. Clint appears a few moments later, just as the first beats of the song start playing. “That’s—that is the song that—” Clint gestures helplessly.

“That we listened to the first time I gave you a ride home, yes.” Phil holds out his hand to Clint, who accepts it with a firm grasp.

Phil leads them to a dim spot at the far end of the dancefloor and pulls Clint close. Clint wraps his arms around Phil’s shoulder, one hand settling at his nape. They sway together, barely aware of the other people around them.

“You know, that day I already liked you,” Clint says softly. “Obviously I didn’t really know you, but there was something about you that drew me in. And I thought I had absolutely no chance with you.”

What a bunch of idiots they were. “Likewise. The first day I met you, I thought that you’d never be interested in someone who gets enthusiastic about giving newbies a tour of the school.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. I thought that display of competence was very hot.” Clint’s lips brush against Phil’s ear, making him shiver.

“If we’re being that honest, I was definitely checking out your arms. The T-shirt you wore that day was almost see-through.”

“That was one of two shirts without holes in it, and the other one smelled like fryer duty.”

Phil immediately feels thrown back to those early days, when he’d similarly put his foot in his mouth, unaware of the hardships in Clint’s life. 

Clint seems to pick up on that because he quickly adds, “But I may have also been aware of how I look in that shirt, and I clearly made the right choice in wearing it that day.” His fingers stroke over Phil’s skin, a familiar and comforting gesture.

Phil closes his eyes and tries to commit every detail of this moment to memory—the way they move together easily, speaking to their deep familiarity with each other’s bodies and how to touch and hold one another, the way that Clint’s breath flows over Phil’s neck in little puffs, so similar to when Clint is asleep right next to him, and the song, which they have listened to many times together since that first car ride.

“Can I kiss you?” Clint murmurs.

Phil opens his eyes. “Of course. Why do you ask?’

“Because, y’know, there’s tons of people around, and some teachers and parents and we usually don’t—“

“I don’t care,” Phil cuts in. “Please kiss me.”

Phil expects something brief, just a moment of connection, but not this no-holds-barred kiss, like the ones they share when they’re about to tumble into bed together. Phil lets out a strangled noise that hopefully gets swallowed up by the music. He holds Clint tighter, pressing one hand into the small of Clint’s back where the heat of his skin seeps through thin cotton into Phil’s palm.

They kiss until the song ends and transitions into another slow melody.

Clint barely pulls away, nose brushing against Phil’s. “You make me so fucking happy.”

Phil sucks in a breath, and hauls Clint close. “Same. You have no idea.” Phil can feel Clint smiling against his neck.

If anyone had suggested to Phil at the beginning of the school year that he’d be dancing at prom with someone whom he loves deeply and with whom he has started to build a life, he would have declared that person insane. But this is real, and Phil can’t wait to see what the future holds for him and Clint.


End file.
